Shadow of Shadowmoon II: The Master's Return
by Odeena Sabnach
Summary: The war against the Burning Legion has ended for now, but something else is about to begin. Once again, Vaala Dawnstrike finds herself caught in an intrigue that spans the length and width of Azeroth and beyond. Regular updates, please R&R!
1. Politics and lack thereof

_**Author's Note:**_

_Well, fellows, here it is: the second book of 'Shadow of Shadowmoon'. For those of you who are new to the story, there's no need to worry: all the major events that happened in the first book will be hinted at as the story goes. _

_This story takes place roughly one month after the events of Sunwell Plateau (patch 2.4.0) and before the Wrath of the Lich King expansion. It's definitely not canon, since Blizzard never mentioned the possibility for either Illidan or Kael'thas to return. Then again, that's what fanfiction is for... right?_

___Reviews make me a happy writer! :)_  


_**Disclaimer:**_

_Blizzard Entertainment owns World of Warcraft. I make no claims of ownership whatsoever. _

**SHADOW OF SHADOWMOON II**

**THE MASTER'S RETURN**

**CHAPTER 1**

**1. **

The sky was bleeding red towards the west, the giant disc of the sun already starting to dip beneath the distant horizon. A cool breeze swept through the dying trees of Quel'danas, and the rustling of fading leaves sounded from one end of the small island to the other, mingling with the faint, rhythmic hum of waves crashing against the shore. The air smelled of sea, moss, and freshly upturned earth.

A solitary leaf began to drift towards the ground in a lazy circling motion. It spun faster as it caught momentum, nearing the ground...

A blade flashed through the air, almost too quickly for the eye to see – and then, one leaf became two near-perfect halves that settled gently on the ground a small distance from each other.

The blade continued its movement for a moment still, then suddenly came down in a vicious slash as its wielder changed her stance in one sinuous motion. The weapon she held in her other hand mirrored the path of the first, and the two oddly-shaped swords scraped briefly against each other with a grinding noise. The lone Blood Elf woman moved with a speed and grace that was befitting of her race. She wore simple leather armor, made to protect rather than to entice or impress, and a closer look might have revealed the tell-tale signs that its wearer had seen her fair share of battles. Her long, raven-black hair was caught back in a tightly-wound tail, and her fel-green eyes were closed in concentration. This seemed to hinder her not at all as she continued her practice, blades moving in intricate patterns that only she could predict.

The swordswoman kept at her practice for a while still. It was almost like an intricate dance of sorts, as gracious as it was deadly. Abruptly, she turned on one heel and threw one of her swords at a blackened tree stump some twenty paces away. Upon it, someone had carved a clumsy imitation of a practice target, such as those that could be seen by the dozen in any archery range. The sword embedded itself deep in the wood, but still a considerable distance away from its intended mark.

Vaala Dawnstrike straightened up with a weary sigh. She didn't have to turn or look closer to know that she'd missed.

How infuriating.

Vaala thrust out her free hand in a none-too-gentle motion. A moment later, the sword reappeared in her grasp and she replaced it in its sheath along with its twin. There'd been hardly any fighting to be had since the Shattered Sun Offensive's resounding victory at Sunwell Plateau, and so Vaala had taken to practicing her stances every day. This particular style of combat was almost second nature to her by now, but going through the familiar motions did its part in keeping her mind off other things. Her technique was as well-refined as was to be expected – all, save for the final throw, which for some inexplicable reason would never land true.

Vaala took a few deep, calming breaths. This never quite managed to put her mind at ease, but her body, at least, responded almost immediately. She sat down on the ground, legs crossed, and closed her eyes once more.

This was the trickiest part of her daily routine, and she'd never quite managed to accomplish it fully in the past. She kept her breathing steady as she opened her mind, envisioning her surroundings not as they were, but as they would appear in size and shape if they were made of magic and magic alone.

This manner of 'seeing' was highly uncommon among the sin'dorei, and nigh unheard of by any of the other races. Some magisters spent decades trying to school themselves to perceiving the flows of the arcane. Others, blinded in battle or by the unsightly ravages of old age, directed themselves solely by what they could glimpse with their altered senses. And yet others – outcasts even among their own people, to say nothing of the world at large – chose to discard their worldly sight altogether to gain a much more purposeful gift in return...

A sudden chill shook her body for a few moments before she concentrated enough to bring it in check. It happened sometimes, when the pangs of her racial addiction threatened to spiral out of control, but she had long since learned to draw power from other places. The amulet she wore underneath her armor at all times – a heavy silver frame encasing a jewel from Draenor – was an excellent focus of arcane energies. It had been gifted to her by one who had shown her the path to a power she'd never truly wanted...

_Illidan._ She hardly thought about him these days, despite the fact that one chance encounter with him and the many months of harsh training and trying ordeals after had left her forever changed. In the end, Illidan's lack of foresight had been his undoing. His legacy, however, still endured; Vaala had intricate tattoos marking her chest and arms, and she could conjure magics even the warlocks would have cringed at... but usually, she chose not to. Her blades were far more reliable to vanquish any foes.

The world was murky, as though seen through a shard of blackened glass. Most inanimate objects possessed little magic, if any at all. But here on Quel'danas, the latent energies emanating from the northern part of the island made everything stand out against a dazzling background of gold and white light. Or rather, would have done so if Vaala's second sight had fully developed. As it were, she saw most things as little more than twisted shapes of uncertain origins.

A presence flared suddenly among the shadows, its energies appearing almost blinding in comparison. Vaala turned her full attention to it, and immediately saw that it was moving towards her at a steady pace. A spellcaster, it had to be; only they possessed enough knowledge of the arcane to draw magic around themselves like a shield. The presence, likely sensing it were being watched, winked out abruptly, like a candle snuffed by the wind.

Vaala opened her eyes. The Shattered Sun Offensive, of which she counted herself as one, thought the threat of Kael'thas and his followers eradicated almost completely, but those who'd actually set foot inside the Sunwell Plateau knew that some felbloods had escaped the purging and likely still roamed the island in search for ways to sate their addiction. She stood up and slowly drew her blades. One could never be too careful, around these parts and always.

It was some time before she heard the intruder, his footsteps on the carpet of dead leaves that covered the ground growing increasingly audible in the near-silence that surrounded her. Finally he stepped out in the open, and Vaala relaxed almost immediately upon seeing who he was. "Hello, brother," she said pleasantly, sheathing her swords once more.

Reevan Dawnstrike bowed his head in a stiff greeting. Brother and sister though they were, they had been growing increasingly distant as of late. Reevan held a rather tenuous position with the Shattered Sun Offensive at the moment. His firm belief that a sin'dorei should never be forced to raise his or her blade against another of his race had made him withdraw from the assault on the Magisters' Terrace at the last moment, along with a few others who openly shared his views. This, in turn, had lead to some – particularly the draenei, many of which still had the memory of Bloodymist Island fresh in their minds – to question the dedication of all blood elves to their cause.

More than a month had passed since the ultimate defeat of Kael'thas at the hands of the Shattered Sun Offensive and the mercenaries who'd pledged their aid in return for copious amounts of gold, but some of that doubt lingered still. The fighting had yielded its fair share of prisoners, many of whom had been well-known figures even before the Third War. Their fate was still uncertain; some, particularly the draenei, had made it clear in no uncertain terms that any and all who followed Kael'thas had to be disposed of, permanently. On the other hand, any but the most zealous of the blood elves opposed such barbaric measures. This did nothing to alleviate the tensions on either side.

"Something troubles you?" Vaala asked idly. She was toying with one of her curved throwing daggers now, tossing and catching it with expert precision. Reevan watched the blade for a few seconds, mesmerized, then moved his gaze to meet hers. Her expression was guarded – and yet, there was the barest of hints, in the way her eyes darted away for the briefest of moments and her lips twitched almost imperceptibly, that some unwanted thought had crept into her own mind as well.

"Now that the war is over, politics begin," Reevan answered darkly. He moved to sit down on a fallen log not too far away, not caring in the least that the soot covering it would stain his magisterial robes.

Vaala joined him and put a small hand over his. "The killing has ended," she answered after a few moments. "What more could you want?"

Reevan sighed deeply. As one of the lower-ranking members of the Offensive, Vaala could hardly glimpse the true shape of what was at stake. "It has... and yet, it hasn't, he said bitterly. "There is still the issue of those who surrendered themselves to us before we claimed the Magisters' Terrace. The draenei are hell-bent on seeing every last one of them executed for crimes against the races. What could they _possibly _know about our plight? What right do they think themselves to possess, to try and persuade us into slaughtering yet more of our people?"

"Surely the Regent Lord would have a word to say in all this," Vaala answered after a few moments. "After all, with Kael'thas gone-"

"The Regent Lord? A would-be monarch incapable of commanding respect even among his own men and with a second-in-command too cowed to advise what he must." Reevan turned to the side and spat in disgust. "I see no help coming from Lor'themar, nor from Halduron or that scheming bastard, Rommath. But I know this much..." He took a deep breath. "I will die before I see any more sin'dorei put to the sword. I swear it."

Vaala rolled her eyes. "Oh, would you _stop_ being so dramatic. Our people, at least, will not support so harsh a penalty, not when it comes at the risk of setting such a dangerous precedent. The Burning Legion are well-known for addling the thoughts of even the strongest of men. And now that there are no more demons to hold sway over those prisoners, I'm sure they're just as sane as you and I."

When Reevan next spoke, his voice was pensive. "Even the strongest of men... yes, even Kael'thas himself was swayed by Kil'jaeden's and his ilk. Had he not been so rapt on fel magic, he might have seen reason in the end. If only..." His voice trailed off, and his expression darkened once more as he looked his sister over.

Vaala held his gaze for a few moments, then looked away, annoyed. She knew what he was getting at, and the fact that he'd stopped himself in time didn't make the unspoken accusation any less painful to bear. If only Kael'thas hadn't struck a bargain with a half-demon lord who happened to serve Kil'jaeden at the time. If only Illidan had kept his end of the deal before the Sunfury had turned to the Burning Legion in desperation. If only Vaala herself hadn't chosen to lend her strength to the Illidari. Chances within chances within chances...

"I do not blame you for doing what you did," Reevan said at length.

He'd guessed her thoughts to an extent. Vaala was not surprised. Then again, she knew he didn't mean it. Not entirely. His eyes pinned her with an accusing stare even as his words offered supposed forgiveness. She could still feel his anger, directed both at her and at himself for having sent her on the one ill-fated mission that had changed everything.

"You said yourself that fel magic corrupts," Reevan went on, his voice suddenly distant, as though he were considering some sort of new and alien concept. "During your service you were exposed to far more of it than even the Sunfury. It's not a stretch to assume that played a large part in your... misguided choices."

Vaala's eyes narrowed down to slits. This was hardly about forgiveness, then. Rather than choosing to live with what had happened as it were, he was offering her an easier way out by pretending she'd been seduced by Illidan's magics enough to disregard her own free will. She shook her head once. She would have none of it. "What I did, I did of my own volition," she said quietly, but firmly.

Reevan couldn't have looked more offended if she'd struck him out of the blue. "How can you _still_ defend him?" he said, outraged. "After everything-"

"After everything he did for me? For both of us?" Suddenly, Vaala jumped to her feet and began to pace. "He spared my life. He spared _your _life, and more than once! What business was it of you and yours to attack him in the first place? He was quite content with being left alone!"

"What about Shattrath? Was that just a misunderstanding, then?" Reevan shot back, every word dripping with unbridled sarcasm.

At this, Vaala was silent. She knew little about the assault on Shattrath, other than it had lead to a large portion of Kael'thas's finest deserting to the enemy. Illidan may or may not have had any say in it to begin with, but after that near-crushing defeat Kael'thas had taken what remained of his forces and fled north, eventually laying claim to one of the Naaru's own strongholds, the dimensional fortress Tempest Keep. The rest, of course, was history. "I couldn't know," she said finally, her voice softening a little. "I wasn't there."

"_I_ was there," Reevan said sharply, and stood up as well. "I heardour prince order Voren'thal to purge the city in the name of Illidan Stormrage with my own ears. What say you to that?"

"I say that I can't speak for one who has already atoned for his sins in death."

The phrase was met with heavy silence, which in itself spoke more about where Reevan stood than a thousand words could have done. There was to be no reconciliation, then... at least, not until both would become willing to put the past behind -

With a start, Vaala realized that there was something odd about the silence. It wasn't just between them. The wind had ceased. The birds, few as they were, had stopped their chirping and perked on their branches as though petrified. Even the waves were oddly still.

Reevan turned to look south, towards the mainland. "Do... do you feel that?" he murmured, his earlier animosity replaced by sudden apprehension.

Vaala reached out, opening herself once more to the ebbs and flows of magic around her. She barely noticed anything out of place, at first; a moment later, though, she gasped as she felt what her brother had already picked up on – a faint, but unmistakable surge of raw arcane power, the likes of which she'd never encountered before. The magic was weak, but she could feel traces of it lingering on her skin, on her lips, _everywhere_... and even the briefest taste of it left her craving for more.

With a small shudder, Vaala pushed the hunger to the back of her mind. "What is it?" she whispered, almost reverently.

Reevan combed a hand through his hair. He was shaking a little, likely sharing her need. "I don't... know... It feels like – no, that would be _impossible!_ And yet, if not-"

"_What _is it?" Vaala cut in impatiently. "It feels like _what?_"

"It... it feels like arcane residue, but – but no-one, not even the strongest of our casters, could ever achieve such purity, such power, such _perfection_... If the aftershocks can carry all the way out here, then whatever it is, it must be enormous at the source!"

"Could it have come from Silvermoon? There are many-"

"No," Reevan said pointedly. "If Rommath or any other magister were to attempt anything like this, I would have known." Suddenly, he straightened up. "I must bring this news to the others. You should come as well. Your expertise with the more... unusual... schools of magic could be of some use."

**2.**

Grand Magister Ilastar felt a strong urge to roll his eyes in hopeless frustration. "For the second time, Vindicator, there is no way to assess whether or not there is a threat based on this surge alone. We must send out scouting parties to find the source, and _then_ decide what course of action would be best to take."

On the opposite side of the small, round table that Ilastar currently employed as a makeshift working desk, Vindicator Kaalan stiffened slightly, although his expression remained unchanged. The only other thing that betrayed his irritation was a slight twitch in a muscle next to his left eye. "And for the second time, Grand Magister," the draenei said icily, "I cannot give my consent to putting anyone at risk until we know with some certainty at least that it is safe to proceed."

Ilastar considered this for a few moments. "I take it you speak for the rest of your people as well?" he asked finally, his tone and demeanor mirroring the other man's.

Kaalan nodded his head gravely. "I do, yes."

Inwardly, Ilastar sighed. There were ways to dance around this draenei's objections, despite his high rank and considerable influence; after all, when it came to diplomacy, blood elves were second to no other race. However, doing so right now would amount to wasting precious time. The surge had been weak to begin with, and it was getting weaker still. Soon, it would be untraceable, and whatever had caused it would remain unknown. Such a loss would be unacceptable.

"Grand Magister...?"

Ilastar gave a small start, then quickly composed himself. He clasped his hands over the table and leaned slightly towards the other man. "I believe I speak for all blood elves, then, when I say that we are willing to pursue this new development whatever the risks. Your people are free to keep out of this venture altogether."

Ilastar was skilled enough in the intricate ways of politics not to miss the fleeting shadow that passed over Kaalan's features. Beyond the Vindicator's would-be amiable expression, he saw suspicion. Now that their common enemy was no more, the deeply-seated mistrust between their two peoples was beginning to surface once again. This was but the latest of several such interludes since the victory at Sunwell Plateau, and the dissensions were fast moving from pressing matters to trivial ones.

"I appreciate your taking the time to inform us of your intentions, then," Kaalan said at length. "In return for your courtesy, I will allow those who wish to aid you to do so – should this not interfere with their other duties, of course."

"Of _course_," Ilastar said pointedly. He would have preferred to keep the draenei out of this altogether, but Kaalan had requested a meeting before Ilastar's own officers could be summoned and consulted. As it were, he had no choice but to act grateful for this unneeded - and unwanted - offer. "We are most thankful, I assure you," he added with a courteous nod.

They exchanged the courteous parting words that were common in such situations, and shortly after Kaalan took his leave. As soon as he had gone, Ilastar brought his fist down on the table, hard enough to wince at the pain Some of the draenei were skilled with magic, that much was true. However, any clumsy interference on their part could have disastrous consequences. He had no choice now but to act quickly, before Kaalan could fully appraise the other draenei of the situation. Politics be damned!

"Seradane!" Ilastar bellowed, loud enough that his voice would carry to the antechamber. "Attend me!"

A moment later, Seradane Dustweaver walked in, then sat down in the chair Vindicator Kaalan had vacated without waiting for an invitation. "At your call," he said with just enough deference to make the words sound flat and not in the least sincere.

Ilastar hadn't known Seradane for too long, but the man's skills, knowledge and, above all, discretion, made him useful enough to be trusted. For reasons that Ilastar neither knew nor cared to divine, Seradane had given up his position as a captain of the Farstriders to engage in more nefarious pursuits. These days, he served as an agent for the Shattered Sun Offensive and, more often than not, as Ilastar's personal assistant in the more... _delicate _affairs that war would sometimes require.

"You are aware of the current situation, I presume," Ilastar said bluntly. There was no need to mince words here. Seradane had likely been listening to his conversation with the Vindicator and caught up on a dozen things at least that Ilastar himself might have missed.

"Indeed I am." A pause, then, "The draenei lies. He will handpick several of his own scouts to shadow ours and report back as soon-"

"Yes, yes," Ilastar cut in, waving a hand impatiently. "I will deal with Kaalan on my own time. For now, I want you to act as my liaison. Tell Ayren Cloudbreaker to have his dragonhawks ready to take wing on a moment's notice. Then, find Captain Dawnhearth, appraise him of the situation, and instruct him to send ten of his best skirmishers to comb the mainland, beginning with the coast. I will contact Battlemage Arynna and have her supply whatever casters she can do without as well."

Seradane listened to all this in silence, nodding once or twice. "Anything else?" he said when the magister was through.

"One more thing," Ilastar answered wearily. "Advise both Cloudbreaker and Dawnhearth to act as quickly and discreetly as they can. The draenei must not know what is happening until they see our search parties fly overhead. With any luck, those lumbering oafs will be too slow to follow and whatever caused this surge will fall solely in our hands."

"What makes you think it would be something and not some_one?_"

Ilastar frowned. He didn't like being questioned, particularly by someone whose only job was to follow orders and whose pay for it could have easily fed a whole squad for a week. Before he could reprimand his troublesome liaison, however, there was a loud knock, then the twin doors to his office swung wide open.

Ilastar stood up and drew his magic around him in a protective shield. Assassins were few and far-between these days, but one could never be too careful. On the other side of the table, Seradane shifted only slightly in his seat, one hand moving to rest lightly on the hilt of the curved sword he carried.

"Ah, Spymaster Dawnstrike," Ilastar said testily upon seeing who it was that disturbed him this time. Here was another troublesome man, one who failed to see necessity even when it stared him in the face. To say nothing of his questionable conduct during the Shadowmoon campaign, when he'd even been suspected of consorting with the enemy at one point. "I'll thank you to not barge in like that next time. And who is this?" he added with a glance towards Reevan's companion, a woman he'd never seen before.

Reevan didn't seemed to be moved by Ilastar's obvious irritation. "My sister, Vaala," he answered with an absent nod towards her. "I apologize for the interruption, but there has been a-"

"A magical disturbance, yes. It is being investigated as we speak." Ilastar turned to Seradane, who was still studying the new arrivals with a curious look on his face. "You have your orders. Go."

Seradane scowed a little at being dismissed with such little ceremony, but bowed – an actual bow this time, not his usual, mocking imitation of one – and obeyed nonetheless. When he'd gone, Ilastar turned his attention to his newest visitors once more. "You are to refrain from mentioning this to anyone until we can ascertain what has happened on the mainland," he said firmly. "Is that understood?"

Reevan inclined his head in a reluctant nod. "I am certain you best know how to handle this affair, Grand Magister. However, I must ask whether your plans include a course of action should we find whatever caused this. Should there be a new threat-"

"Then we will deal with it swiftly and decisively, as we have done before."

Reevan looked taken aback by such a vague response, but to his credit he kept himself in check. It was gratifying, in a way, seeing a man who'd once been held in high regard by the revered Voren'thal the Seer struggle to keep his composure at such a crude dismissal. Ilastar himself had looked up to Reevan once, before the whole Magisters' Terrace affair. Too bad this would-be hero had shown his true colors there at last.

"Is there anything else I can be of assistance with?" Ilastar asked, though his tone implied his clear lack of desire to assist either Dawnstrike with anything.

"That would be all, I think," Reevan answered after a few moments of tense silence. "With your permission, then, we will both return to our respective duties."

Ilastar breathed a sigh of relief when he saw himself alone once again. He had his doubts he'd seen the last of Reevan Dawnstrike, and he almost regretted not having ordered Seradane to keep an eye on him, too. For now, however, there were other matters to be seen to. If he knew Seradane at all, the crafty agent was already seeing to it that his other orders were obeyed, and it didn't pay to delay this any more than he could help it.

**3.**

"He didn't seem to like you much," Vaala noted casually as brother and sister made their way through the recently reclaimed Dawnstar Village.

Despite the early hour, many of the Shattered Sun Offensive conscripts had retired for the evening. The main square was deserted save for the sentinels assigned to guard the village at night. They were mostly blood elves, standing in small groups and conversing among themselves in hushed voices. A few saluted as they passed, but some ostensibly looked the other way.

Reevan made a derisive sound. "That isn't surprising in the least," he said grimly. "What concerns me more is that Ilastar has removed me from the search altogether. It would seem that my presence is even less tolerated than I'd feared."

Vaala tapped her lips with the tip of one finger thoughtfully. "Ilastar did no such thing," she said after a few moments.

"Not in so many words, no. However, he has made it painfully obvious that that my assistance was neither wanted nor needed. He counts on the fact that I will keep out of the way lest I give him one more reason to shun me." Reevan shook his head wryly. "Not that he needed much reason to begin with."

"Politics," Vaala muttered. "Why do you even bother?"

Reevan shrugged his shoulders once, and said nothing. That in itself was enough of an answer; with their former estate in ruins and hardly anything left of their old lives, neither sibling had any choice but to move forward and let life take them where it may.

"I have an idea," Vaala said suddenly. "Come with me."

Reevan arched an eyebrow as she grabbed his arm and half-forced him to turn, leading them along a different path. "Where are we going?" he asked as she quickened her pace.

"The mercenary camp," Vaala answered brightly.

Reevan stopped dead in his tracks with a scowl. Most of the mercenaries who had aided in the raid on Sunwell Plateau had since returned to their respective factions, and a large part of the Offensive had no further interest in dealing with those who'd either chosen to stay behind or had nothing to return to. They were a nasty lot, violent, obnoxious, and prone to causing trouble wherever they went. "What business could we _possibly _have there?" he demanded, wrenching his arm from her grip.

Vaala crossed her arms and _tsk_-ed. "You still want to take part in the search, don't you?"

Reevan stared at her incredulously. "Yes, but-"

"Two things," Vaala said in a voice that left no room for argument. "One, Ilastar probably requisitioned every dragonhawk he could get his hands on, so we'll need another mount. And two -" She paused for a few seconds, then rolled her eyes. "Never mind. You'll see."

Her logic was sound, but Reevan still felt uneasy as they left the comforting glow of Dawnstar Village and came upon the shabby tents and improvised barracks that housed the mercenaries. Unlike the village, whose inhabitants carried themselves with dignity and reserve, the mercenaries were a loud and lively crowd. There was noise all around them, and a drunken rendition of what was probably an orcish war song could be heard from the other end of the camp.

A large bonfire roared between two of the larger tents, and over it several orcs and a troll were roasting a gigantic boar. Where or how they'd found such game on such a small island was a puzzling to Reevan, but when one of the orcs shot him a dirty look he quickly averted his eyes. For all he knew, these people were more than capable of settling their brawls with a knife to the back. It wouldn't pay to cross any of them now.

Soon, Vaala stopped in front of a surprisingly sturdy-looking wooden shack. There was no door, but a thin velvet curtain hung over the entrance, billowing gently in the wind. "Stay here," she said quietly in Thalassian. "And don't do anything stupid." She waited until Reevan gave a small and rather reluctant nod, then pushed the curtain out of the way and stepped inside, letting the cloth fall back into place behind her.

Reevan watched her disappear with a frown. A moment later, the sounds of a muffled conversation reached his ears, too faint for him to distinguish what was being said. He shuffled his feet uneasily and felt for the enchanted dagger at his belt. Of course, if anything unpleasant were to happen, magic would be his first weapon of choice. Then again, it never hurt to be prepared for every eventuality.

The conversation inside the shack went on for several long minutes, then finally Reevan heard the unmistakable sound of coins being passed from one hand to another. Moments later, Vaala emerged from the shack. Reevan caught a glimpse of a small vial, which she hurriedly tucked away in a pouch. He knew better than to ask what it was for.

"Well, _that_ takes care of the other thing," Vaala said, rubbing her hands and looking very pleased with herself.

"Good," Reevan muttered with considerably more enthusiasm than he felt. Ilastar's search parties were probably well on their way by now, and even with a swift mount there was no guarantee they'd catch up to them in time, especially not if they were going to keep out of sight as well. They were wasting time here.

"Better than you think," Vaala replied with a grin that could only be described as mischievous. "This way."

Much to his chagrin, Reevan found himself led back towards the bonfire they'd passed earlier. "You plan to get a mount from... from _them?_" he hissed, not bothering to hide his irritation.

"Don't be ridiculous," Vaala answered with a quiet chuckle. "Those guys don't own anything but the clothes on their backs and whatever weapons they pilfered from Orgrimmar before they ran away."

"Then why-"

"You can stop talking now."

Reevan pursed his lips. "I hope you know what you are doing," he whispered as they rounded a tent that looked on the brink of collapsing and came to a stop directly in front of the orcs.

There were four of them, all feasting on various parts of the boar he'd seen them roast earlier. The troll had gone somewhere, likely to enjoy his share of the bounty alone. Reevan couldn't help wrenching his nose in disgust. Apparently, orcs didn't bother with tables, dishes or cutlery. They sat or lounged directly on the ground and ate with ravenous abandon. Such a crude display made his stomach lurch.

"Throm-ka," Vaala said loudly, thumping her chest in a salute that looked ridiculously out of place.

Reevan tensed, expecting the orcs to take offense. Instead, the one sitting closest to them – an enormous orc wearing a wicked-looking battle harness with a bloodied axe strapped to his back – jumped to his feet and offered a clumsy bow. "Throm-ka, sister," he boomed. He then looked Reevan up and down, and gave him a curt nod. Reevan responded in the same way, still baffled at the orc's attempt to emulate sin'dorei manners. "Come! Feast!" the orc beckoned after, gesturing towards the half-eaten boar.

"Another time, Brogan," Vaala said with a wave of her hand. "I'm here on business tonight. Where's Dokra?"

Brogan, shrugged his massive shoulders once, then turned to the other orcs and repeated the question in their own tongue. A brief conversation ensued, and then one of the other orcs stood up with a grumble and disappeared among the tents.

"Morg says he saw her with Yazdak the Rippler earlier tonight," Brogan offered after the orc in question had gone. The look on his face made it plain that he had no sympathy for this other orc. "I sent him to find her. Could be some time." He sat back down with an apologetic look.

"Not to worry. How goes the hunt?" Vaala asked leisurely, moving to sit down cross-legged next to the orc and looking perfectly at ease with it. She motioned for Reevan to do the same. He crossed his arms, glaring. Be things as they may, he would not stoop down so low.

Brogan snorted. "Not much left to hunt here. We will seek battle elsewhere soon."

"May your enemies be strong and many," Vaala said ceremoniously.

Brogan tossed his head back and laughed. "I'd wish you the same, but I know that is not what your people seek. Speaking of which... who is this man you bring? And why does he wear a woman's clothing?"

Reevan stiffened with outrage. This was _too much_. "I am Reevan Dawnstrike, Spymaster of the Shattered Sun Offensive, and these are _not_-"

"He's my brother," Vaala cut in loudly. "And I'll have you know his deeds speak of his strength far more eloquently than the robes he wears."

Brogan had the decency to look slightly abashed at the not-so-subtle rebuke. "Your kind can be stronger than they look. Throm-ka, Reevan Dawnstrike. May you live to see the dawn of many battles."

Reevan had no idea how to respond to that. Fortunately, Morg chose that moment to return to the bonfire, accompanied by a female orc clad in black leather from head to toe. This was Dokra, then. Despite himself, Reevan found himself staring. It was hard to guess her age, but she appeared younger than either Brogan or Morg. Nonetheless, she carried herself in a manner that immediately made it clear she was used to commanding both obedience and respect from those around her.

Vaala stood up quickly and the two women clasped each other's forearms in greeting. Dokra barely spared a glance towards Reevan, and he was perfectly at ease with that. He wasn't sure he wanted her attention either way.

When Dokra spoke, her voice was far less gruff than other orc women Reevan had heard before. It sounded almost melodic in comparison. "What brings you here, _osh'khazil?_"

"I need Cloudsting," Vaala answered after a moment. "Also, dried meat to last me for three days, and bandages if you have any to spare."

Dokra pondered the request in silence, and Reevan began to fidget. This was no proper way to ask for anything, even when it came to orcs! Or... was it? He had no idea. "You will have your just compensation, of course," he said after a moment's hesitation.

Dokra drew up to her full height, easily towering over the smaller sin'dorei. Reevan resisted a strong urge to back away. "Gold has no place between sisters of the blood," the orc woman snarled. "Be silent or go away."

"My brother meant no disrespect," Vaala said quickly.

"Hmph," Dokra said, and crossed her arms. "You will have your request, _osh'khazil_. So long as you promise to return my mount to me unharmed once three days have passed."

"You have my word. And his," Vaala added after a moment. "In case I won't be coming back."

**4.**

Several miles away, on the northernmost coast of the Eastern Kingdoms, Theraise Starshine stared across the open sea with an almost nostalgic look. It had been weeks since she'd last come here, caught in the complicated affairs she was forced to deal with day by day. Though of noble birth, Theraise was but a lowly clerk at the court of Lor'themar Theron, and that, it seemed, made her the perfect candidate for the small, menial tasks that no other courtiers would deign to bother themselves with.

With a heavy sigh, Theraise turned to where the many lights of Silvermoon colored the sky a bright orange. In a way, the city never slept. Even now, parts of it were being rebuilt or modified to accommodate the steady flow of pilgrims and refugees coming back from Outland. The thought of those returning from their once-promised haven made Theraise's lips curl in a bitter smile. Some of the refugees loudly opposed the new leadership of the sin'dorei. It was all the city guards could do to keep public unrest from spreading to the point where disgruntled citizens would storm Sunfury Spire and cry for Lor'themar's head.

Theraise began to idly walk along the coast as she let her thoughts drift where they may. It couldn't be said that Lor'themar and his ilk did much to justify their current position. Most of the city was ran by clerks, like Theraise herself, who saw to it that things ran smoothly and litigations were settled swiftly and with as little hassle as possible. Things weren't much different from when the Sunstrider dynasty had governed Quel'thalas – but then, the Sunstriders, at least, were kings by right of birth, and nobody had thought to question that right.

However, Theraise had no regrets for the demise of the late Kael'thas. The memory of him still permeated the city, from the golden statues that nobody had thought to tear down even after the prince's betrayal, to the way the arcane constructs designed to keep the peace sometimes erred and pronounced his name. If she had her way, Theraise would have ordered every single one of them destroyed. Let those who still lamented the Sunstriders cry their misery elsewhere. Now was the time to look forward, not back -

"Oh..." Theraise said quietly, and stopped.

Another corpse had washed up on the beach, a thing that was still occurring every now and then despite the fighting on Quel'danas having officially ceased some weeks ago. This one was laying face-down in the sand, and judging by its appearance it hadn't been there for long. Theraise hesitated, caught between wanting to take a closer look and continuing her walk as though she'd seen nothing. In the end, she decided for the first option. It was possible that this corpse carried with it something of value, something that she could either trade or use herself. After all, the dead had no more need for worldly possessions.

Upon a closer look, the dead body turned out to be that of a male sin'dorei. There was no blood, so he'd either drowned or – far more plausibly – he'd been killed by a spell. His robes, which had once belonged to a high-ranking magister, by the looks of them, were tattered, charred, and stained with blood, but the skin Theraise could see was a pristine white. The magic surrounding him, however, was a most curious thing. He must have carried an artifact of power, something that would definitely benefit her. Theraise smiled to herself as she crouched down next to the body. Time to see –

Suddenly, the 'corpse' turned to the side and coughed. Theraise leaped back in surprise, lost her balance and fell on her back with a startled yelp. "I'm s-sorry!" she stammered, struggling to get back to her feet. "I – I didn't think... that..."

Theraise's voice trailed off as her eyes told her what her mind refused to comprehend. The man she beheld was one she'd seen in effigy dozens, perhaps hundreds of times. "But... they said you were dead..." she said in a near-whisper, bringing a shaking hand up to her chest to still the thundering beats of her heart.

Kael'thas Sunstrider, once self-proclaimed king of all blood elves, offered her a pained smile as he slowly got to his feet. "I was," he said in an oddly composed voice. "And now, it seems, I have returned."


	2. Never again

**CHAPTER 2**

**1.**

Reevan kept silent as their borrowed wyvern, Cloudsting, circled Quel'danas in a wide, lazy circle. They were high enough so that being spotted by anyone on the ground was hardly a concern, but this did little to put his mind at ease. They were still wasting time, and rather than guide it southward, towards the continent, his sister seemed inclined to let the wyvern do as it pleased. She'd drank the elixir she'd acquired from the mercenary camp earlier as soon as they were aloft, and now she barely gripped the reins as, he assumed, she let her altered sight sift through the many threads of magic in the air to find the one that would guide them to their goal.

That in itself was no small feat to accomplish. Even seasoned magisters, like himself, would have to spend a considerable amount of time in concentration to reliably trace anything so faint. But Vaala had the advantage of being far more sensitive to subtle arcane undercurrents when she opened herself to sense them. She'd explained it to him briefly, once, and he'd pieced together the rest after some consideration. The arcane tattoos that had been one of the many 'gifts' she claimed to have received from Illidan not only amplified her agility and strength, but her innate magical capabilities as well. She made it no secret that she much preferred using the former, though. She was many things, but a talented spellcaster she was not.

"Did you hear anything?" Vaala asked suddenly. Her voice was quiet and subdued, but had a tense edge to it nonetheless.

Reevan listened for a few moments, but the night was still. He shook his head, then, realizing she couldn't see the gesture, said, "Nothing at all. What is it?"

"Must have been a fancy, then," Vaala muttered, more to herself than to him.

A fancy? Reevan frowned. His sister was certainly not prone to fancies. He made a mental note to himself to ask her later what was going on. For now, however, there were other thoughts weighing on his mind. "I must ask what you meant earlier, when you were speaking to that orc. Surely you do not intend to-"

"-die?" Vaala cut in, and laughed. "Of course not. Still..." She hesitated a little, then finished, "I might not be coming back to Quel'danas."

Reevan had been expecting something like this, even though he hadn't imagined she'd admit it outright. There was already talk among the leadership of the Offensive to relocate a portion of the lower-ranking conscripts elsewhere, either to strengthen the southern borders of the Ghostlands and the Thalassian Pass or weed out the forest trolls and Scourge that still milled in small pockets here and there, preying on unsuspecting travelers. If Reevan were to be honest with himself, he could hardly see Vaala fulfilling either role.

"You're not going to argue?"

"Would there be any point to it?"

"Not really, no."

"Of course not..." Reevan sighed, realizing not for the first time how stubborn she could be. "Have you decided where to go, then?"

Vaala thought about it, or maybe she was distracted by something only she could see. Finally, when he'd all but stopped expecting her to reply, she spoke again. "Dokra and the others are leaving for the Undercity, from what I've gathered. There is a rumor that the Banshee Queen is preparing to send an expedition to Northrend, and she needs able-bodied fighters to guard her apothecaries while they do whatever it is they're supposed to be doing up there."

"I would think of something else, if I were you," Reevan said darkly. "Anything that the Forsaken have to offer always comes with strings attached-"

Vaala made a small hissing noise, then jerked the reins abruptly, making Cloudsting bank with a low growl. "I think I have it," she explained as they began to pick up speed. "Hang on!"

Reevan felt a flutter of excitement, but that was soon replaced by annoyance as found himself clinging on to her for dear life. The saddle was uncomfortably small for the both of them even though it had been made to accommodate a much bulkier passenger. A dragonhawk would have been a far more pleasant means of traveling. Damn that Ilastar and his greed.

They flew in silence for a while. Reevan looked over his shoulder once, and saw that the island of Quel'danas had nearly disappeared from sight. Dark waters churned below, the rustling of waves crashing against each other mingling with the howl of the wind in his ears. Above, the sky was clear, a waning moon rising slowly towards the east.

Eventually, Cloudsting began to slow. They were still far from the continent, so far that his eyes could hardly spot it in the distance. The wyvern stopped not long after, its strong wings stretched wide open as it began to circle over something that Reevan couldn't see. Vaala turned towards him, and with a start he saw that her eyes glowed an even brighter fel green than other sin'dorei. "Here," she whispered.

Reevan leaned over to glance down, and saw nothing there. "Are you certain?" he asked after a few moments.

"It came from below the surface, that much I can tell..." She was silent for a while after, and Reevan didn't interfere. Finally, she straightened up in the saddle and wiped some sweat from her brow. "There is another trace that may or may not be connected to this one. It leads towards the coast."

"We follow it." He'd said the words before the thought ever had a chance to fully occur to him.

Vaala nodded once, then prodded Cloudsting in a different direction. Once more, they began to fly at a dizzying speed. "What do you suppose it is?" she shouted above the wind. "Some kind of artifact?"

Despite the sudden urgency he felt, Reevan grinned a little. "Artifacts don't just appear wherever and whenever. Even you should know that much." Then, his demeanor grew serious once again. "Did you 'see' anything else down there, aside from our trail? Could it have been the naga we didn't get to in time?" It could certainly be assumed that some of the Darkspine, at least, had survived to set up some sort of ritual, though he couldn't fathom what purpose it would serve. And then, while the serpent-like creatures were certainly powerful in their own right, their magic felt different and was far less potent than what he'd experienced earlier that day.

"It wasn't the Darkspine," Vaala answered, as though echoing his own thoughts. "Any magic they could conjure would leave one hell of a tangled mess behind."

Reevan had to agree with this, even though ruling out the naga brought them no closer to uncovering what had happened here. He looked forward, and saw that the dark, rocky outline of the coast was already beginning to show on the horizon. The answer, if there was any to be had, would lie in wait there.

**2.**

Some time had passed, and still Theraise could only stare at the man in front of her in wide-eyed apprehension. He hadn't so much as spared a second glance towards her, instead busying himself with picking off grains of sand and clumps of seaweed from his hair and robes. Somehow, despite his ragged condition, Kael'thas still managed to look regal, and that was more than could be said about Lor'themar even on his of best days. Theraise let her mind latch on to that, drawn to practical matters despite the awkwardness of the situation. Lor'themar would learn of this sooner or later. Would he step down then? That would certainly please some of the old nobility, but others would-

"How long has it been?"

The question startled Theraise out of her thoughts. He was looking directly at her now, and she found her gaze inexorably drawn to those mesmerizing green eyes. She swallowed thickly, aware once more that she was conversing with a sovereign who, against all reason, had come back from the dead. "How... how long has it been... since when?" She almost felt tempted to add, 'My lord?', but at the last moment decided against it. Alive or not, Kael'thas Sunstrider wasn't her monarch anymore.

"Ah, my apologies. I meant since my demise, of course." He spoke the words lightly, as though he were discussing a trivial matter.

_How long...?_ Theraise rubbed her temples wearily. "A month... maybe more," she answered. Then, something inside her rebelled. "How is this possible?" she demanded, clenching her fists. "They cut off your head, burned your body and scattered the ashes! There wasn't even anything left to bury, let alone bring back to life! So how can you-"

Theraise clamped her mouth shut abruptly. He was still pinning her with that impassive stare, but she hadn't missed the way he flinched at her words. In hindsight, it was rumored that the Shattered Sun Offensive had cast away all mercy in their assault of the Magisters' Terrace, and hardly anyone ever spoke of the prince's final moments. Theraise almost cringed in sympathy. She could only imagine – but _no_, this man was not deserving of her pity after all. Not after everything he'd put his people through.

"I'm afraid that answer eludes me still," Kael'thas said at length. He turned away from her and studied their surroundings. "Is this still Quel'thalas?"

"Yes... _still_." The unspoken insinuation hung heavily in the air. _Yes, this is still Quel'thalas, despite __your efforts to see it conquered by the lords of the Burning Legion and brought down around you. _There could be be no forgiveness, no sympathy, no mercy.

The stare returned, with slightly more intensity than before. "I take it you would strike me down just as eagerly as the others did."

Theraise looked away even as words of defiance tried and failed to form on her lips. She couldn't bear that look, not when she saw the sadness writhing deep beneath his supposed nonchalance. "Many died because of you," she said, but the weight of the accusation was softened by the near-whisper it had been spoken in. "I'd be surprised if you could stand living with yourself knowing that."

Kael'thas gave an almost wistful sigh. "I suppose," he said, "only time will tell."

"You will not have much time once you are found out," Theraise replied, perhaps a bit harsher than she'd intended. "Lor'themar hasn't even fully secured his power yet, and he will go above and beyond to make sure that you will not jeopardize his position in any way."

Theraise realized her mistake even before she'd spoken the last words. Kael'thas had been a powerful mage even before he'd been transformed by the powers of the Legion, and there was no telling whether his sudden resurrection had weakened him or not. She gathered her own magic around her, but that did nothing to soothe the fear that was creeping its way into her mind.

The silence stretched between them, the seconds trickling by with uncanny slowness. "Thus far, you are the only one who knows of my return," Kael'thas said finally. His voice was still pleasant, but somehow his words had lost whatever trace of emotion they'd held before.

"Yes," Theraise said, raising her chin in defiance, "and I intend to-"

She blinked once, then looked down. Surely, her eyes were deceiving her this time. He _couldn't _have moved that fast, drawing a sword she didn't even know he had, closing the distance between them, and then -

Theraise fell to her knees. _No, _she thought over and over. This couldn't have happened. It had to be a dream, or a vision, or...

Curiously, she felt no pain – just a pleasant numbness that made her want to close her eyes and drift off into a slumber from which she knew that she would never wake. She looked up through a mist of tears and saw him leaning over her...

"..._why?_"

Kael'thas brought up a hand to caress the side of her face. "I am truly sorry," he said, and for the first time he sounded sincere. "Death is certainly not a pleasant experience. I should know that better than anyone. I have already died once..." He straightened up to look past her, at something Theraise would never see, and smiled that bitter smile again. "Never again," he whispered as he began to walk away, robes billowing in the wind.

**3.**

"There!" Vaala cried out, straightening up in the saddle to point towards something that Reevan still couldn't see. "On the shore! There's..." She leaned forward, then swore loudly as she almost lost her balance.

Instinctively, Reevan grabbed her arm and pulled her back towards him. "What is it?" he asked. "What do you see?"

"A body," Vaala answered flatly. She hesitated for a second, then added, "Dead."

Reevan didn't ask how she knew, although the news made his stomach twist painfully in a grim reminder of how easily one's life could be taken away. "Does the trail end here as well?" he asked instead.

"I can't tell from here. We need to get closer."

It appeared that was all she was going to say for the time being. The waves below gradually parted to give way to banks of sand, then finally Cloudsting circled once and landed on the beach with cat-like grace. Vaala patted him on the back, then jumped out of the saddle and took a few steps away, arms outstretched, reaching out with all her senses at once.

Reevan dismounted as well, feeling more than a little relieved at having solid ground underfoot once more. He let Vaala do her work and went to take a closer look at the body she'd seen. It was that of a blood elf woman, quite young and wearing the intricate garments of the nobility. The sand around her was red with freshly-spilled blood. The sight made his own blood boil.

"This is strange," Reevan heard Vaala say from somewhere to his right. "I can tell that somebody cast a spell here, but there's hardly any residue. It's almost as if that somebody drained every last ounce of magic he could find."

"Hardly surprising," Reevan growled back, hands clenching into fists. "This is the work of a skilled caster, I'll give him that... although he doesn't seem to shy away from plain murder, either." A pause, then, "What about the trail?"

"Gone... but not quite." Speaking, Vaala pointed towards something behind him.

Reevan turned and immediately realized what she'd meant. There were footsteps leading away from the murdered courtier, starting off even before they became shallow and haphazard some distance away, as though whoever had made them had broken into a run. He hesitated for a few moments, then resigned himself to coming back to retrieve the body once the murderer had been dealt with. "Come on," he said curtly. "He couldn't have gone far."

**4.**

There was blood on his hands, cold and slick and a revolting shade of red. Her blood. He'd murdered her... but there had been no other way. He couldn't afford to trust any of those who would so readily turn from him in disgust. And still... his heart wept at the necessity. Was this how his life would become henceforth? Kill until finally he would become too weak to-

"No," Kael'thas said out loud, his voice shaking. He would sooner end his own life than let himself fall into the hands of the enemy. His memories were still clouded, but he could recall the one last struggle before darkness had finally claimed him with frightening clarity.

With a shudder, he pushed the memory away. His own killers had shown neither remorse nor pity, and that woman would have handed him over to suffer the same fate all over again. Nonetheless, as a twisted sort of a final courtesy, he'd numbed her mind to the pain and coaxed her into a slumber she would never wake from. There was no need for cruelty, not even when his own people had shown him plenty thereof. Afterward he'd run until his legs couldn't carry him anymore, away from her, away from the guilt that was even now inexplicably gnawing at his mind. Finally, he'd collapsed in the sand, lungs burning with an effort he wasn't accustomed to and eyes brimming with unshed tears.

Why had she turned against him? Why had they _all_ turned against him? Was he deserving of this? He took his head in his hands and sighed. If only he could _remember_-

"By the Sun..."

The recollections were few and fragmented to near-incomprehension, but in them he began to glimpse part of the horror of what he'd done. For a few terrifying moments, he found that he couldn't breathe. Was it true, then, what she'd said to him...? He'd never meant for any of his people to die, and yet... _and yet..._

And yet, he realized with renewed grief, he'd knowingly lead them down a path that couldn't have ended any other way. He was unworthy to call himself a prince, unworthy to tread across the lands of his forefathers, unworthy even to _live_.

But he couldn't find the strength to let himself die. No. _Never again. _With an effort, he pushed to his feet. The burning in his lungs had subsided a little, and he started forward once again. Forward, away from those who no longer needed him, away from everything he'd ever claimed to hold dear.

He'd been walking for a while when a sudden chill in the air warned him that something was amiss. His instincts made him leap to the side just as the sand he'd been stepping over frosted and tendrils of ice snaked through the space he'd been at a moment before. He whirled around, one hand already on the hilt of Felo'melorn, the ancient sword of his lineage. His magic was nearly depleted from his earlier assault, but a lone pursuer he could deal with. Without hesitation, he Blinked.

Whether it was from cunning or sheer luck, his assailant chose that particular moment to Blink forward at the same time. They faced off once more, and Kael'thas became painfully aware that the one spell had cost him nearly all of his pitiful reserves. For the first time, he beheld his assailant. He recognized the tabard, a fierce-looking winged helm embroidered upon black velvet in gold and azure. His killers had worn tabards of a similar design. With a sneer, he pooled all of his remaining energy into one last spell, a devastating flamestrike that would incinerate this would-be assassin and everything around-

Suddenly, something hard connected with the back of his head with enough force to send him sprawling and break his concentration altogether. Black spots danced at the edges of his vision, and for several moments he tethered on the brink of unconsciousness. He rolled out of the way and pushed to one knee, sword still held firmly in his grasp, only to feel something cold and sharp resting lightly against his throat.

"Go ahead, make a move," said a crisp woman's voice. "I dare you."

**5.**

"Vaala! _Don't!_"

"I wasn't going to," Vaala muttered sullenly, glaring at their prisoner. She'd been expecting him to put up a decent fight, but in the end, it had been laughably easy to sneak up on him and break whatever spell he'd been casting with a single blow. He wasn't even much to look at, bloody and ragged and covered in sand as he was, but there was something... _something... _With a start, she realized she knew him, and her breath caught in her throat. How in the Hell...?

Reevan appeared next to her, panting slightly. Whatever he was going to say was lost in a sharp intake of breath as he saw who their quarry appeared to be. Vaala couldn't blame him. After all, there weren't many things that could be said when a dead man was looking you in the eye.

"Please," Kael'thas said quietly, raising one hand to gently push the sword away. "There is no need for that. I submit."

Vaala narrowed her eyes. "I wouldn't believe you even if-"

"Do it."

Vaala glanced sideways at her brother. "_Excuse_ me?"

Reevan had a strange look on his face. It was neither curiosity nor apprehension, but something in-between. "He said he submits. If he tries anything, you know what to do."

"You didn't seem too eager to trust him five minutes ago," Vaala pointed out dryly. Nevertheless, she sheathed her sword and stepped back, crossing her arms. "Fine. _There. _Now why don't you ask him-"

Reevan waved her into silence and turned to their captive. "My lord..." he whispered. "Is it really you?"

Kael'thas nodded gravely. "Yes, though I'd rather you didn't call me that. And you are...?"

Reevan almost stood to attention before he caught himself. "Reevan Dawnstrike, of... the..." His voice trailed off, and he looked away.

"The Shattered Sun Offensive," Vaala finished the sentence for him. "And I'm his sister, Vaala. Not that you'd care to know."

"The Shattered Sun Offensive," Kael'thas repeated pensively. "So, that is what you call yourselves. A fitting name."

Vaala rolled her eyes. "That has nothing to do with anything. What are you doing here? For that matter, what are you doing still alive? We saw you – well, _he_ wasn't there," she said, jerking a thumb towards Reevan, who was still staring, "but I was. I saw you die! Hell, I even... _well?_" She frowned. There were things not even she was proud of having taken part in. Instead, she turned the last word into a question of sorts.

"I'm afraid I know little more than you," Kael'thas said after a few moments. "I, too, remember dying. And I remember _you._" The last word wasn't so much spoken as spat out. "Though I can hardly blame you, if that is any comfort. I was-"

"You were _insane_," Vaala cut in bluntly. "You ranted and raved at us like a madman, and when we offered you the chance of surrender, you... _you_..."

"I am sorry."

Vaala rolled her eyes again, and gripped the hilt of one sword so tightly her knuckles hurt. "Of course you are," she mocked, although inwardly she was seething with righteous fury. "And I couldn't care less. If I knew for sure you'd stay dead this time, I would _personally_-"

"You will do no such thing," Reevan said firmly, gripping her arm with just enough force to emphasize the words. "Kael'thas was only a pawn to Kil'jaeden in the end, and now he seems to have realized that fact. At the very least-"

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Vaala shot back incredulously. "You of all people should know how many died because of his ambitions!"

"What about those who died because of _your_ ambitions, then? Should I have just ended your life in exchange for theirs?" Reevan knew the words had cut her deep, but at the moment he didn't care. He turned to Kael'thas once more. "I will hear what you have to say, my lord. And so will she."

If Kael'thas felt any surprise at this particular turn of events, he didn't show it. "Another time, perhaps," he said calmly. "For now, it would seem we are no longer alone."

**6.**

The scouts had surrounded them unnoticed, a testament to their skills that made them so fearsome in any battle. There were six of them, approaching in groups of three from either side. Between them, the sea and the cliffs that rose steeply in the opposite direction, they were effectively cut off from any possible escape. Kael'thas straightened up and absently brushed off the sand from his robes. What a troublesome turn of events. Even with these two defending him – provided the woman, Vaala, could be talked into drawing her blade for him – their odds were hardly favorable at the moment. Kael'thas's own magic was all but drained, and he suspected he would need days, maybe weeks to recover his strength enough to cast anything other than the simplest spells. He still had his sword, but somehow he doubted it would do him any good this time. Two of the scouts had their bows trained on them, while the others wielded curved longswords with which they likely had considerable expertise.

One of the scouts, who was presumably in charge of the others, stepped forward until he was in plain sight. "This is your only warning," he shouted, making a show of brandishing his swords. "Come quietly, or be taken."

"_Well?_" Vaala said under her breath. "Do we go quietly, as they say, or do we make a run for it?"

"We have nowhere to run to," Reevan answered with a sigh. To the scout, he said, "This matter no longer concerns you. Leave."

"Belay that!" the leading scout roared as two others began to fidget. "Your authority does not carry here, Spymaster, and..." Belatedly, he noticed Kael'thas, and his expression hardened into a mask of pure hatred. "Surrender. _Now._"

Kael'thas looked from one Dawnstrike to another, and reached for the hilt of his sword almost without realizing it. What would they do now? What _could_ they do?

And then... Vaala turned around slowly, hands on her hips, and laughed. "You may have us outnumbered _and_ outranked, but we have you outmatched," she said after. "My brother wasn't speaking idly. Turn back now, or die. Your choice."

Kael'thas arched an eyebrow. It was said that fear sometimes drove people to act brashly, but... this?

"As you will. _Loose!_"

Two arrows were fired in rapid succession. One shattered against an invisible barrier... and the other was cut in half mid-flight. Kael'thas blinked and took a few hurried steps back. He'd never seen anyone move that fast. He drew Felo'melorn, for all the good it would do him, and watched as several more arrows were deflected with ease.

Reevan unleashed his own counterattack then. One of the archers and the skirmisher standing closest to him both went down, shrieking as a violent burst of flame stripped the flesh from their bones. He'd cast two immolation spells simultaneously, and Kael'thas had to grudgingly admit that quite a show of mental discipline. However, in doing so, Reevan had left his own defenses momentarily weakened. Another arrow missed him by less than an inch, and then sailed on towards the prince. An instant before it reached him, a sword appeared almost as if out of thin air and batted it out of the way.

"Make yourself useful, will you?" Vaala hissed before turning and sprinting away.

In the few seconds between then and now, Reevan had managed to cast another spell. The other archer shared the fate of the first, but it was obvious the strain of maintaining his concentration enough to attack and defend at the same time was beginning to take its toll. Kael'thas gathered his own magic, wincing in discomfort as he drew deeper than he'd ever been forced to do before. There were three against three now, friend for foe. Vaala was trading blows with the leading scout, trying and failing to find an opening. The other two looked torn between aiding their commander and fleeing to safety. Kael'thas's lips drew in a tight line. They would not have the opportunity. Power surged around him, less than what he was used to, but hopefully just enough for what he had in mind. Just three more seconds... two...

Then, out of nowhere, a counterspell hit him stronger than any physical blow could have done. His thoughts blanked momentarily, and when he recovered he scanned the beach desperately to find its source. Too late, he realized that the unseen caster was standing on the cliffs above. Before he could do anything else, the ground under his feet erupted in a series of violent arcane bursts, flinging both him and Reevan in opposite directions. Kael'thas landed hard and rolled a few times before somehow coming up on his hands and knees. His sword had been wrenched from his grip and lay just out of reach, as useless as it had ever been. One of the remaining scouts saw the opportunity and charged at him, swords drawn...

...only to stagger and finally drop into the sand, face down, the hilt of a throwing dagger sticking out of her back.

Kael'thas breathed a long sigh of relief. By the Sun, these two were formidable! However, his elation was short-lived as he directed his attention to the caster on the cliffs. He was waving his arms and chanting furiously, preparing to unleash-

"Look out!" Kael'thas cried, but it was already too late.

The flamestrike churned and roared, devouring everything in its wake. The sand underneath it turned to glass, then even the glass shattered, melted and burned. It took several nerve-wracking minutes for the inferno to finally die down, and even then Kael'thas could still feel the unbearable heat from where he stood. There was no chance, not even in the slightest, that anything could survive such an onslaught...

Kael'thas blinked several times in rapid succession. In the middle of the scorched area there was a near-transparent dome of energy, and inside there were two figures, one kneeling, the other standing. As he watched in utter disbelief, the barrier shimmered, then faded away. The standing figure, the one who wielded a pair of long, elegant swords, stepped out onto the charred sand, shadows gathering around her like a shroud. She glanced his way briefly, with eyes that burned like fel fire, then turned towards the cliffs and disappeared.

Kael'thas knew what was coming, and sure enough, soon after the last of their enemies plummeted to his death with a blood-curling scream. For a second, he saw a silhouette outlined against the sky, darker than even night itself – and then she too jumped down, landing in a crouch a small distance away. She disappeared again, only to reappear at her brother's side. She wasn't Blinking, Kael'thas realized. Instead, she stepped through the shadows with both ease and grace, not the laughable clumsiness of other rogues and assassins he'd seen.

Curiously, Kael'thas followed her, pausing just enough to retrieve his sword. Maintaining a shield through that blaze would have strained anyone, and there was a fair chance that even an accomplished magister would have trouble recovering for a while after. Sure enough, he saw that Reevan was laying in the sand now, eyes closed and breathing strained. Vaala was kneeling next to him, looking at a complete loss of what to do.

It would have been easy to take both of them out now that the more pressing threat of the Shattered Sun Offensive was no more, but after considering this alternative for a few moments Kael'thas dismissed it. Neither had turned against him just yet, and one at least could still be useful. "That was truly impressive," he said, and he meant every word of it. He'd known it could be done, but he'd never actually seen someone withstand a flamestrike of that intensity before.

Vaala glared at him, eyes burning with anger. "And what did _you_ do to help? He risked his life to save yours, and you wouldn't even lift a finger in return!"

Kael'thas held her gaze impassively even as he pondered what to say. He couldn't let her know that his magic was nearly depleted, not when she looked dangerously close to running him through with her sword either way.

Before he could think of anything, however, Reevan coughed weakly and opened his eyes. When he saw Kael'thas, he smiled. "My lord," he breathed. He tried to push himself up and, predictably, failed.

Kael'thas felt a strange surge of emotion. He was undeserving of that title, he knew, but somehow he found even this small show of loyalty to be comforting in the sea of self-loathing that his mind was threatening to drown in. "Save your strength," he said softly. "You will need it to recover."

Reevan waved that away with a weak gesture. "I cannot be of anymore help right now. The two of you must flee before – before more of them come. Vaala will take you to safety. I will remain behind to – to throw them off."

"I'm not leaving you," Vaala said stubbornly. "They're going to-"

"They will not do anything to harm me," Reevan interrupted with the barest hint of annoyance. "They have no proof, and I have friends still. Cloudsting will be much swifter with the two of you. When this boils over, I will -" he coughed again "- find you."

Vaala looked ready to argue again, then seemed to think better of it. Abruptly, she stood up. "Come," she commanded, then she stalked off without looking back.

Reevan sighed, relieved. "Watch yourself, my lord," he whispered. "And watch her, too. She will – be loyal. I swear it."

Kael'thas looked again at this man who would so readily lay down his life for him even after everything he'd done to alienate his people. For a moment he hesitated, then he put a hand over his heart. "Thank you," he said, just loudly enough to maybe make himself heard.

Reevan closed his eyes and smiled.


	3. The Dawnstrike estate

**CHAPTER 3**

**1.**

Kael'thas must have dozed off for a while, because the next thing he became aware of was that the sky was slowly reddening towards the east and thick mists all but obscured the ground below. They had been flying in utter silence for a while before that, along the coast at first, going around the restored part of Silvermoon City in a wide arc, then further inland towards a goal he couldn't divine. He was marginally thankful that Vaala hadn't thought to throw him out of the saddle as he slept. Then again, her brother had sworn by her loyalty. Maybe he knew better. Maybe she could be trusted, at least for a time.

Kael'thas sighed and changed his position slightly. Immediately he felt her tense, one hand almost moving to reach for a sword before she gripped the reins forcefully once again.

"Stop squirming. We're nearly there."

The voice was quiet and harsh and... tired. Kael'thas felt a pang of sympathy, which he quickly pushed away. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," Vaala answered tersely, and that was that.

Some more minutes passed. Eventually, they began to descend at a wide angle, towards – if his sight could be trusted – a rather unremarkable part of what had to be Eversong Woods. The trees were as tall and majestic as he remembered, but their foliage was brown and yellow rather than green. Before, Quel'thalas had basked in an eternal spring, maintained by magic and by other means. With the blood elves' first and foremost source of power gone, it seemed that nature was all too eager to resume its unaltered course. Would it be snowing at some point, then? He tried to picture the elven kingdom shrouded in snow and found that the images were strangely vivid in his mind, almost as though he'd seen it all before.

Of course, Kael'thas realized with a start. When Arthas had laid waste to Quel'thalas, he'd brought the winter with him as well. Many elves had been taken aback when their control over the weather began to waver, noticing at first a sharp drop in temperature, then chilling and unnatural gale winds, and then finally, snow. That had been one of the many signs that something was amiss, but of course the proud magisters had refused to believe until the last moment that the peril was this great.

And Kael'thas himself had been too caught with the petty affairs of the Kirin Tor to even know what was happening until the dire news had come that the kingdom of Quel'thalas was no more. He felt the old grief stir at this, and after a few moments of pointlessly trying to wrest his thoughts from its grip he abandoned himself to it. If only he'd been there when his people had needed him most. He could have stopped Arthas dead in his tracks, before he could desecrate everything that the high elves had ever held dear, and-

"_Damn. _Hold on!"

Kael'thas barely had time to register the words and conform before their mount banked sharply and disappeared among the treetops, weaving through the branches at a dizzying speed until finally it landed in a crouch and went perfectly still. He was about to question this sudden turn of events, when a large, winged shadow passed overhead, grazing the treetops with a loud crashing noise as it went.

Vaala turned her head to watch it go, then breathed a small sigh. "Bloody hell," she muttered. Then, she turned to him. "Get off," she said curtly. "From here on out, we go on foot."

Kael'thas did as he was told, every muscle in his body aching after having sat still for so long. "What was that?" he asked after.

At first, Vaala looked like she wouldn't deign to answer. Instead, she began to remove the harness from the wyvern, working with expert precision. Kael'thas took a step back and leaned against an aged tree trunk with a sigh. His thoughts were beginning to drift away once more when she finally said, "A drake rider. Thank the Sun he was too busy flying the damn thing to notice us."

This was the longest she'd ever talked to him since they'd left, and for the time being she seemed content to leave it at that. Kael'thas, however, found himself wondering how it was possible for someone to control a drake without any obvious means to subdue its will. Some orcs had used red drakes as mounts during the Second War, but that was because they'd managed to capture and imprison their broodmother and keep her subdued. Had those orcs somehow found a way to wrest the allegiance of the other flights as well?

Kael'thas was about to voice his puzzlement when something large and heavy was pushed into his arms. Looking down, he saw it was a rather bulky saddlebag. Something about his expression must have betrayed his surprise, because Vaala rolled her eyes and said, "Cloudsting needs to hunt and rest. If it's too heavy... well, tough luck."

The pack _was_ heavy, but not more so than what she carried. She stalked off in a seemingly random direction, leaving the wyvern behind to do as it pleased, and he slung his load over one shoulder and followed. She still wouldn't tell him what their intended destination was. Wisely, he decided not to press the issue.

It wasn't long before they came across the remains of a paved road. The cobblestones were chipped and cracked, with grass and tree sprouts growing freely in-between. Wooden pillars with elaborate carvings still visible even with the moss that covered them were spaced out evenly on either side, and some of them were still adorned with magical crystal globes that pulsated with an eerie glow.

Kael'thas began to feel uneasy. The mist was even thicker down here, and the only sounds were those made by their footsteps as they trudged on. Vaala was walking several paces ahead of him, head held high and looking firmly ahead... and still, she showed the tell-tale signs of exhaustion that Kael'thas was all-too-familiar with after the long marches through Northrend and Outland. Her steps were uneven, her shoulders slumped just so, her breathing slightly louder than it should have been. For a moment, he found himself wondering if he should offer to ease her burden a little. Then, he decided against it. She would probably take offense and berate him for it, then refuse his help either way.

"Here," Vaala said suddenly, quickening her pace.

Kael'thas hurried and caught up with her just as she passed through a crumbled archway and emerged in what had probably been an inner courtyard once, though it was in an even more pitiful state than the road before it. Some fifty paces ahead, the remains of a large building jutted up from the mist. Kael'thas looked closely, his curiosity stirring. Part of the domed roof had clearly collapsed, though whether it was from lack of maintenance or something else, he couldn't tell. The front gates were wide open, one barely hanging from rusted hinges, the other bearing charred marks and with the shafts of more than a dozen blackened arrows sticking out from the rotting wood.

Vaala took a few more steps forward, then shrugged off what she was carrying, the items falling to the ground with a noise that sounded unnaturally loud in the silence. Kael'thas was about to question why she'd brought him here of all places, when she turned towards him with an odd expression. "Welcome, your highness," she said bitterly. "Welcome to the Dawnstrike Estate."

It took several moments for the meaning to finally fall into place. "...Your home?"

For an instant she looked almost sad. But then the mask of nonchalance fell back into place and she shrugged, "What's left of it. Not that it was much to look at, even back in the day." There was the faintest trace of amusement in her voice, but before Kael'thas could ask why she turned on one heel and started forward once again. "Wait here," she called over her shoulder. Then, very faintly, "And don't run away. There are things out there that are even worse than me."

**2.**

The old house wasn't any worse for the wear than when Vaala had been here last... which was to say that, against all common sense, it still refused to crumble into dust and be gone forever. There was no rose-tinted nostalgia to show it for anything but what it truly was – an unnecessary reminder of a time that was gone and would not be coming back. Still, as she stepped through the double doors and into the large, circular hall where her family had once entertained their guests and organized those boring soirées that the entire household would have to attend, Vaala couldn't help a fleeting smile. Those days would have certainly been more pleasant if they hadn't been spent between trying and failing to become more lady-like under the impatient ministrations of her mother, and listening to her father prattle on about his accomplishments during the Troll Wars. Eventually, Vaala had tired of both and gone off to Silvermoon to find her own path in life. In hindsight, that had been the single best decision she'd ever made.

A quick inspection of the ground floor revealed nothing other than a nest of spiders as big as her fist, which quickly scurried away at her approach. In one corner, she found the remains of a fire pit and an old, decaying sleeping mat. By the looks of it, the owner had spent the night here, then left, never to be seen again. Satisfied, Vaala moved to the upper floor, where her family's private chambers had once been. Each room was in a more deplorable state than the last. Looters had probably come and gone more than once, growing increasingly desperate if the smashed furniture and torn wall ornaments were any indication. They hadn't found anything of value, of course. After the Scourge had moved on to the north, Vaala had come back once to retrieve anything she could use for herself or exchange for food and other items of necessity.

With no present threat to occupy her mind, Vaala found herself idly wondering what to do next. Reevan had wanted her to take their former prince to safety, and this place was as good as any. However, staying here for any longer than necessary was out of the question. Vaala could think of several other places where they would be unlikely to be discovered. With any luck, they could stay ahead of their pursuers, should there be any.

And then...? While the life of a fugitive might have held a certain appeal for some, Vaala was certainly not content with the notion of sleeping with one eye open from here on out. Kael'thas had neither turned on her nor tried to escape... _yet_. Either he couldn't, or he still thought her useful enough to be kept around.

For that matter, what did Kael'thas intend to do? He'd certainly seemed remorseful enough over the past, but that was little comfort, if any at all. If he had an ounce of dignity left, he would submit himself to the judgment of his people... and either be killed or remain imprisoned for the rest of his days. Reluctantly, she had to admit that no-one, insane or not, would jump at that particular opportunity.

Vaala rubbed her eyes wearily, then stretched, wincing a little when she felt several joints pop. She hadn't slept for the better part of the last two days, and she was beginning to feel more than a little tired after the past night's trying ordeals. Her thoughts were slowly grinding to a halt. There was nothing more she would have liked than to curl up there and then and drift off to sleep for a few hours at least. Nevertheless... it was probably best to confront Kael'thas now, before either would do something they would later come to regret.

She found him in the main hall, sitting against a pile of the items they'd carried here. He seemed asleep, but then he stirred at her approach and opened his eyes. Despite her earlier intentions, Vaala could hardly think of anything to say. Kael'thas didn't look particularly threatening at the moment. Come to think of it, he wasn't much to look at, at all. She'd have to find him something else to wear, if they wanted to stay unnoticed once they left here, something passable enough to not draw too much attention... although Vaala had to admit that Kael'thas had the sort of presence to draw attention anyway. She frowned and pushed that thought away. One thing at a time.

"You hate me," Kael'thas said quietly.

"I can hardly think of anyone who doesn't." It was a hash thing to say, but it was also true. Still, Vaala couldn't help but feel a little guilty for having snapped like that. "It doesn't really matter, though," she went on hurriedly. "My brother wants you to live, and I owe him enough to make sure that you do. That said, you'd better get used to this place. We might be here for a while, at least until I decide what to do with you."

"I see..." Kael'thas paused a little. "Am I your prisoner, then?"

Vaala had been asking herself the same question not too long before. "Think of it what you will," she said vaguely. "As long as you don't try to kill me, I won't hurt you, either." She almost felt tempted to add, _Much as I'd like to_.

"Oh, I assure you, I am in no condition to try anything," Kael'thas said, then sighed. "Either way, it would seem that I have no choice but to entrust myself to you fully, and hope that your intentions are as honorable as your words."

"If they weren't, you'd be dead by now," Vaala answered with a shrug, and she settled to let that be that. She was still suspicious, of course, but this conversation was beginning to unnerve her more than she cared to admit. "I'll be resting for a while, and I suggest you do the same. There are several beds upstairs... if you don't mind the maggots and whatnot. Feel free to make yourself at home." She said the last phrase with a bitter sigh. She'd never felt at home here, not even in the days before the Scourge. To him, this place must have seemed even more unwelcoming.

Kael'thas smiled a little. "Thank you," he said, "but I would rather not. Do not worry," he added with a dry chuckle. "You will have nothing to fear from me while you sleep."

Vaala felt the corners of her own lips twitch up in a minute grin. "Then keep watch," she said, amused. She then bent down to rummage through one of the saddlebags and took out a folded piece of cloth, thin enough to fit inside but thick enough to keep her warm. She wrapped it around herself as a makeshift blanket and sat down, leaning her back against a half-crumbled wall and closing her eyes with a sigh. Within moments, she was fast asleep.

**3.**

It was some hours later. Judging by the way the shadows stretched in the courtyard outside, the sun was either setting or nearly there. Vaala kept still for a while after waking from her brief respite, idly trying to remember what her dreams had been about this time. There had been frantic searching, and a whispered voice to guide her towards a goal she knew she had to reach before... before _what_, exactly? She didn't know. The voice had been familiar, although she couldn't quite place it, but the language it had spoken in was neither Orcish nor Thalassian nor anything else she ever remembered hearing. And the dream itself... hadn't really felt like a dream, but more like a memory, which of course was a ridiculous notion. She must have been more tired than she'd realized, to entertain such thoughts now.

Eventually, Vaala stood up and stretched laboriously, working off the numbness in her muscles one by one. There was no sign of Kael'thas, but the faintest flicker of light coming from one of the rooms upstairs told her where he was likely to be. First, however, she reached for the nearest saddlebag and, after some searching, produced a small piece of dried meat wrapped in rough cloth. True to her word, Dokra had supplied her with enough provisions to last for several days. Orcish food was hardly a treat for most sin'dorei, but Vaala knew better than that. A few bites would provide enough nutrition for a long time after; the fact that it had the texture of a worn leather boot and hardly any taste at all was a drawback that she could easily overlook.

Vaala ate slowly, thinking. Nearly a day had passed without word from her brother, which meant that he was still recovering after having spent nearly all of his strength the previous night. That, at least, was the preferable explanation for his absence. If the Shattered Sun Offensive had somehow figured out what had truly happened on the beach, then Reevan was probably in no position to do anything. Either way, the longer she and Kael'thas stayed here, the higher the chances that they would be discovered, if not by the Offensive, then by somebody else.

This, in turns, raised the question of where to go from here. Logic dictated that the farther away they were from Silvermoon City, the better. On the other hand, if they went too far, Reevan would have no chance of finding them and she'd be stuck looking after someone who would most likely tire of the situation and lash out at her sooner or later, forcing her to act forcefully in return.

_Damn it._

There was only one place close enough to the Shattered Sun Offensive where their presence had any chance to go unnoticed for longer than it took some overly-enthusiastic officer to put two and two together and act on it... but going there would amount to walking into the proverbial lion's den, blindfolded and with their hands tied behind their backs. Still, the more she thought about it, the more she realized there was no other way. Which left the issue of convincing Kael'thas that her alternative was not only the most sensible thing to do, but the only chance either of them had to keep their heads on their shoulders long enough to figure out what course of action wouldn't get them killed.

Kael'thas was in what had once been the not-so-great Dawnstrike library, leafing through a tome that had survived the plundering and destruction more or less intact. A conjured globe of light hovered over the pages, bobbing gently up and down. When Vaala coughed loudly to make her presence known, he looked up and hurriedly put the tome away, like a child caught messing around with an older sibling's possessions. "Good evening," he said pleasantly, folding his hands in his lap. "I hope your rest was, ah, pleasant enough under the circumstances."

Vaala raised an eyebrow, wondering what he could have possibly been reading to act like that upon being discovered. "I've had worse," she said with a shrug, and that much was true. "Here," she added, tossing him another piece of dried meat, slightly larger than the one she'd had. "I figured you'd be hungry by now."

Kael'thas unwrapped the morsel and examined it. "Orcish food?" he asked after a few moments. His tone made it clear that he wasn't at all happy with the discovery.

"_Food_," Vaala corrected him pointedly. "It's all we have, so you might as well get used to it."

Kael'thas took a bite and chewed it slowly. Judging by his grimace, the taste did little to change his opinion on what orc mercenaries ate. To his credit, however, he finished the rest of it with a stoic expression. "That was..." He hesitated a little before settling for, "Indescribable. What kind of meat was it?"

Vaala shrugged again. "If I had a guess, I'd say either strider or some other sort of large bird. There's more if you-"

"Thank you, but no," Kael'thas said quickly. The brief look of panic that crossed his features was almost comical when compared to his usual demeanor.

"Well then," Vaala said, then realized she had no idea what to say next. "I'll – uh, I'll be going to Silvermoon City later tonight to pick up a few things. Namely, something else for you to wear, and... well, if it makes you happy, I'll see if I can find something more palatable for dinner." It took a few moments before her last words came back to nag at her consciousness. _If it makes you happy_. Well, she reasoned, better to keep him content enough to at least keep an open mind. "Also, I need to get us another mount. Dokra will want Cloudsting back."

"What did you have in mind?" Kael'thas asked. "A dragonhawk would be rather pricey, if memory serves, and wyverns aren't native to this part of Azeroth. "

Vaala bit her lower lip. She hadn't thought about that, and stealing a mount would be far more trouble than it was worth. Then, an unexpected solution presented itself in all its glory. "A drake."

"A drake," Kael'thas repeated flatly.

"Yes. A netherdrake, to be precise. It's a real pain in the ass to keep around, as I'm sure most of the people who brought one back from Outland already know. With a bit of luck, I can probably get us one straight away. It's large enough to carry both of us, doesn't need to eat or drink as often, and-"

"And it would attract precisely the kind of attention that we are trying to avoid," Kael'thas cut in, although the prospect clearly had him interested.

"-not to mention it would outrun any pursuit if it came to it," Vaala went on stubbornly. "Of course, if you'd rather swim back to Quel'danas, you're more than welcome to try it." Too late, she caught herself, and she swore under her breath. This was definitely not how she'd intended to break the news.

Kael'thas narrowed his eyes. "We are going back to Quel'danas?"

Vaala rolled her eyes. To hell with it. "Yes."

"Explain yourself."

Vaala took a deep breath. "The mercenary camp. Nobody would expect us to be there, and I have friends who can help if things get ugly. Not to mention we'd be close enough for me to find out what happened to my brother." She said the last part quietly, feelings of worry mingling with doubt. She could only hope that Reevan had been smart enough to keep the whole affair to himself and himself alone. Otherwise, they would all find themselves in dire straits soon enough.

Kael'thas pondered this. "I said earlier that I would trust you, and I intend to stand by that," he said finally. "However..." He let the word hang in the air for slightly longer than necessary, then finished, "If you plan on going to Silvermoon tonight, you might as well make yourself presentable first."

Vaala blinked. Out of the many things that might have followed that 'However...', this one was so far down the list she wasn't even sure it was there. The only comeback she could think of was, "What?"

"Your armor," Kael'thas offered. "There's blood and... and other things on it. And maybe your hair, too. You could tie it back, at least. You look like you came straight from battle, and that might not be the best way to go around unnoticed, I would say."

He _was _right, of course, but somehow Vaala still found it in her to be annoyed. She'd been planning on scrubbing the blood off before leaving either way. The hair could stay the way it was. _That's right, _she thought furiously as she tackled a particularly resilient stain on one of the shoulderpads with a wet piece of cloth. There was nothing wrong with the hair.

Well... maybe she could try to smooth it over a little. The thought came and went, leaving her feeling even more irked. It wasn't like the enemy would set aside their grudges for a moment to compliment her on her looks of all things. And for that matter... why did she have care that he found her lacking in that respect, anyway?

She didn't... and _he_ didn't, she realized belatedly. He'd simply pointed out a fact.

"_Whatever_," Vaala said out loud. When he gave her a puzzled glance, she returned to her task with awkward satisfaction. Let him sit on that for a while. Maybe that way, he would learn a thing or two.

**4.**

Kael'thas watched Cloudsting disappear over the treetops, then spent the next few minutes simply staring up at the night sky while he let his thoughts drift. Vaala had summoned the wyvern with a crude bone whistle, then set the harness and left without a word on when she would return. Come to think of it, she hadn't said much to him over the past half-hour or so, instead busying herself with polishing her armor as best she could. The end result had been appropriate enough, he thought.

When he was certain that Vaala would not be coming back for a while at least, Kael'thas went inside and then back to the library. The tome he'd been reading earlier still lay where he'd left it. He picked it up, then settled himself in a near-ruined armchair as comfortably as he could and opened it again. At first he'd thought it would be a treatise on magic, deceived by the elaborate cover and the many illustrations penned throughout. However, a brief reading had revealed it to be something else entirely: a journal, belonging to the matriarch of the Dawnstrike clan.

Elysia Dawnstrike had been a rather pensive character, at least as much as he could divine from the pages. She'd taken the time to write down everything, from musings on the nature of things to the far more mundane, day-to-day thoughts that occupied her mind. There were mentions of the estate, her husband – presumably an officer during the Troll Wars, which he appeared to have recounted in great detail to his family – and her two children, Reevan and Vaala. The former's name came up fairly often, usually in connection to some achievement or another. On one occasion, however, Elysia had written nearly three pages lamenting how her eldest son showed no interest in finding a woman and having sons who would carry on the family name.

Vaala, on the other hand, had been mysteriously absent from the journal until at least halfway through. There he'd found a few paragraphs describing an encounter between her and one Amen'aran, who was apparently the son of a noble, though Kael'thas couldn't remember ever having heard that name. Elysia decried Vaala's utter lack of interest in the man and recounted how she'd been even younger than her daughter when she'd given birth to her first child. She then went on to wonder if she was cursed to have no grandchildren at all.

Kael'thas had stopped reading there when Vaala had walked in, but now he found himself oddly curious about the outcome of that one meeting. After some searching, he found the name Amen'aran once more. The Dawnstrikes had been invited to a social gathering hosted by his father, and – sure enough, he thought to himself with a smile – Vaala had fallen ill on that day and couldn't attend.

That was the end of it, apparently. The following pages were filled with speculation on the nature of conjured food and water and the ultimate distinction between what was real and what wasn't. Kael'thas flipped through the pages quickly. That particular subject hardly interested him now, although back in the day he'd spent hours on end discussing it with fellow mages of the Kirin Tor. As he was nearing the end of the journal, one page in particular caught his eye. The writing looked hurried, as though the quill had struggled to keep up with the writer's thoughts.

_I am concerned about my daughter_, read the words. _Myrodin tells me that her training is going well, so well, in fact, that she might earn a position with the Farstriders after all. I find it revolting that he would let her even consider such an outrageous thing. I would sooner keep her locked away until she dies of old age than let her run off to the woods and live there like a savage. Of course... __I suppose this shouldn't come as a surprise, after all. Ever since meeting that despicable man, Athun, she has become even more rebellious than before. She insists that he loves her, but I can see past this little charade. If his intentions were true, then he would come and ask for her hand in marriage like a proper gentleman. Instead, he talks to her about hunting and brawling and other such messy business. The other day, I overheard them in the courtyard as they were returning from their training grounds. He asked if she would join his band on an expedition of some sort. She said she would, but I intend to confront her this evening and forbid it. Myrodin is with me on this. I can only hope that she will come to her senses before we take this matter with the Farstriders. This has to end!_

Kael'thas paused his reading long enough to sigh. Elysia's concerns were all to familiar to him. He'd never told Anasterian about many of his romantic pursuits for the exact same reasons; he knew his father would disapprove and remind him, for the hundredth time, of what was and wasn't proper for him to do as a prince. He could only imagine how Vaala, who seemed far more stubborn than he'd ever been, had reacted to such a conversation.

The following entries were hardly interesting, containing several far-fetched theories on arcane constructs and an attempt to detail a spellform of uncertain purposes. There was also a quick mention of Reevan rising to the coveted rank of magister, and the celebration that followed. It was fascinating, in a way. Kael'thas was already learning more about his unexpected rescuers than either would have told him otherwise. He felt slightly ashamed for doing it, but then, they probably knew enough about him without having to resort to such means.

Another page caught his eye, the handwriting again rushed and barely intelligible. _A messenger has arrived earlier today, _it began. _He brought a letter for Vaala, but I told him I would have it instead and sent him on his way. The letter was not sealed. I read it. I had to, because I care for her and I do not want to watch her suffer... though I fear that after learning of this, nothing I say or do will ever make her be the same again. Athun is dead. He was killed off in a skirmish with the Amani trolls, along with two others, not five days ago. Vaala does not know yet. Maybe it is best for her not to know at all, or _

The phrase ended abruptly, and Kael'thas wondered why. Had Vaala walked in on her mother and demanded to know what the messenger had brought, or had she become so overwhelmed in her thoughts that she'd simply decided to set them aside? The next page was the beginning of a long, winded essay on blood elf society that Kael'thas didn't care to read, and after that were several short entries that looked like reminders more than anything. Then, finally...

_She left this morning, and neither myself nor Myrodin could do anything to stop her. Her heart is set on joining the Farstriders. I sent word to Reevan to try and talk her out of this. Myrodin will make use of all of his connections to see her brought home safely, and I will do the same. However, I fear that whatever we do may not be enough. The Farstriders answer to no-one but the Ranger-General, and the Ranger-General is subject only to the will of the king himself. My heart weeps at the thought that I will never see my daughter alive again. If only-_

Kael'thas stopped at this and closed the tome, then set it aside. For the longest time he sat still, staring at the opposite wall as he let this new information fall into place. These things had happened long before the Scourge, in a time when he'd assumed his subjects had lived their lives in happiness and prosperity. Not much so for Vaala, it seemed. She'd loved, and lost, and suffered... and then somehow she'd become stronger for it. There was a lesson to be had here, one that painfully reminded Kael'thas about his own shortcomings. But maybe... no, _certainly_, he'd been given this one chance to redeem himself and at least in part make amends for all of his misdeeds. And he would not waste it, he swore to himself. Whatever it took, however difficult it may become, he would put his life in the service of those he'd wronged before. Starting with Vaala Dawnstrike. He owed her that much, at least.

**5.**

It was well past midnight when Kael'thas finally heard the beating of strong winds outside, followed by a loud noise as something large and apparently rather clumsy landed in the courtyard. He drew himself against a wall and prepared a spell that would make him harder to see, just in case the nightly visitor would turn out to be someone other than who he was expecting. That concern, however, was quickly dismissed when Vaala stepped into the main hall, carrying a rather bulky package in her arms, and called out, "Oi!"

"Welcome back," Kael'thas said in return. "How did-"

"They robbed me _blind_," Vaala burst out, dropping the package and kicking at a nearby rock so hard she sent her flying a considerable distance away. "Two _hundred _gold pieces, and that was only for the drake!"

Kael'thas cringed. "I am sorry that-"

"And the leatherworkers? Good grief, getting my armor patched cost me an arm and a leg! I'd sooner learn how to do it myself than deal with those bandits again, let me tell you!"

Kael'thas decided it was probably best to let her vent her frustration for a while. And vent she did, using such language that the late Elysia Dawnstrike would have probably fainted on the spot. Eventually, her anger simmered down enough for her to remember about him. "You're still here."

"Well... yes. Where else would I-"

"Where else would you go, yes, I know." She jerked her head towards the package. "I hope it fits. The throwing daggers are for me, and don't touch the vials. There's poison in there." With that, she stormed out.

Kael'thas stared after her, more surprised than anything. "Thank you," he muttered, even know he knew there was no chance she'd heard him. Then, he picked up the package – by the Sun, it was heavy! – and returned to the library once more so he could change his clothes in a semblance of privacy.

The armor Vaala had picked for him was made of thick leather, fairly worn, and unremarkable in any way. For a second he wondered why she hadn't acquired a new one, then he realized that mercenaries tended to value functionality over any other aspect and saved their gold for more useful pursuits. _Like the drake_, he thought suddenly. Two hundred gold pieces was a steep price even for a wealthy sin'dorei. And ultimately, it was all because of him. He felt more than a little guilty at that.

The eyepatch was a bit too eccentric, so he put that back with a frown. He also found a thin leather cord, which after some thought he used to tie his hair back in a loose tail, and a simple gray cloak that he draped over his shoulders. Finally, he took Felo'melorn out of its ornate scabbard and placed it in the one Vaala had provided, wondering for a moment how exactly she'd known to pick one that fit. The armor, on the other hand, was slightly uncomfortable, having been made for someone more slender than he was, but he supposed that he would get used to it in time.

"You certainly _look_ the part," Vaala said with an appreciative toot after he almost bumped into her on the way down. "Now, all we have to do is get you to _act_ the part."

_Act the part...?_ "I do not-"

"Of course not. Not yet, anyway. Come with me."

He followed her obediently to one of the other rooms upstairs, with torn seating cushions scattered all over the floor. She picked one for herself, then indicated he should do the same. "All right," she began. "If you want to – don't do that, by the way."

Kael'thas blinked. "What-"

"The way you're sitting. Don't do it. It's all right to slouch a little, instead of acting like you've got a spear stuck up your-" she said a word in Orcish, which probably meant exactly what he thought it meant. "In fact, the less manners you show, the better. Don't overdo it, though, especially if you're dealing with an orc or a troll. Or, Sun forbid, a gnome. They're just the right size to-"

"I understand," Kael'thas cut in loudly. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the rest of that particular sentence.

Vaala tilted her head a little. "Do you now? All right. Another thing to keep in mind," she went on, "is that respect is difficult to earn and ridiculously easy to lose. I plan to introduce you as my companion, and that in itself carries some weight. Even so, I want you to keep out of the way as much as possible. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, you were killed off at the Magisters' Terrace and that was the end of that."

Kael'thas nodded once. "I imagine my resurrection would come as a surprise to most, and especially to those who took a part in my earlier demise."

"Most of them would refuse to believe it was you even if you carried a banner with your name on it," Vaala agreed. "A true mercenary will always see a job through to the end. Knowing that you survived would be more of a shock than you can imagine, and there would be more than a handful willing and able to resettle the score."

"Would you let that happen?" Kael'thas asked quietly.

Vaala was silent at this, but the way she glanced at him for the briefest of moments told Kael'thas that, even though she wasn't quite ready to lay down her life for him just yet, at least she wouldn't abandon him to his fate. "I... don't know," she said at length. Suddenly, she straightened up and pinned him with a stern glare. "And if you watch yourself, chances are neither of us will have to find out. Now pay attention. We have to leave soon, and there are several other things for you to learn before we do."


	4. Vaala's gambit

_**Author's Note:**_

_I didn't get a chance to do it yet, so here goes: thanks for all the reviews and PMs, and thanks to all the people who read the story but were to shy to get in touch :) I love you guys! _

**CHAPTER 4**

**1.**

They were aloft once more, flying back towards Quel'danas at an awkward pace. After some debating, Vaala had mounted Cloudsting, while Kael'thas had received a very brief instructing on how to handle the netherdrake and was now perched awkwardly atop a saddle that could have easily accommodated three riders his size. The giant beast appeared to be far more intelligent than he'd assumed, choosing to glide whenever possible so that Cloudsting could keep up without too much effort on its part. All things considered, Kael'thas had a distinct feeling that he was mostly along for the ride. Which was all nice and well, because that gave him time to go over Vaala's earlier teachings and make sure that there wasn't anything he'd missed. While she wasn't the most patient or thorough instructor he'd ever had, she was stern enough that when she'd finally declared herself satisfied, he'd known that she meant it.

Of course, it was nigh impossible to erase several centuries of education within the span of a few short hours. Kael'thas had been particularly taken aback when Vaala had pointed out that his manner of speaking was a dead giveaway that he was the exact opposite of what he would pretend to be. Shortly after, she'd offered to teach him how to 'swear properly, like a man'. That, of all things, had left him completely baffled. Vaala knew how to swear in three distinct languages, one of which he wasn't even sure was a language at all. She was a firm adept of quality over quantity in that respect, since a good swear, in her own words, was worth 'almost as much as a good whack over the head.'

What a peculiar woman, Kael'thas thought. Not at all what one might expect of someone born to a wealthy family, although he could only assume what hardships she'd gone through to make her cast away her former persona altogether. Come to think of it, the sin'dorei as a people had changed dramatically after the Third War. Hell, he was a prime example of that. Gone from heir to the crown and a member of the Council of Six, who ruled the Kirin Tor, to -

Kael'thas ended that train of thought abruptly. It was preferable not to think of it just yet, for fear that whatever memories his mind still kept from him would once again wreak havoc on his already fragile sanity. The thought returned nevertheless, and he envisioned himself at Tempest Keep, surrounded by his most trusted advisors, informing them of -

"Oi!" a voice called from above.

Kael'thas snapped out of his thoughts, looked up and saw Cloudsting there, with Vaala leaning dangerously over one side and waving both hands to get his attention. "What is it?" he called back, wondering what was so important that she'd risk such acrobatics to tell him.

"Move over," was the only warning he had before she half-jumped, half-fell out of the saddle. For a moment she looked as though she were hanging in the air between their mounts... and then, she landed next to him and sat down in one graceful motion.

"Impressive," Kael'thas said before he could stop himself. "And... more than a little crazy," he added after a moment.

Vaala shrugged lazily. "You'll find I'm both those things, and more. Now, to business. We'll be landing soon, and I want you to wait for me on the southern edge of the island and have the drake ready to fly at a moment's notice in case something goes wrong. I doubt there's anybody wandering around at this ungodly hour, but just in case, remember that mercenaries don't usually intrude on one-another's business. If you see anything unusual, act like you didn't. In fact, act like you saw nothing at all."

"Nothing at all," Kael'thas repeated patiently. "How long will you be gone this time?"

Vaala looked away, and for a moment she appeared a lot less confident than before. "Not one moment longer than it takes me to find out what I need to know," she said in a flat voice. "And act on it, if necessary."

_Act on it_. She was thinking of revenge, and Kael'thas didn't hold it against her. The Shattered Sun Offensive were nothing if not ruthless in their methods, and they would certainly not stand for the presence of a traitor in their midst. The skirmish on the beach had left no witnesses, but the smallest suspicion could prompt them to use other, far less honorable methods to find out what had happened there... assuming that Reevan wouldn't tell them outright. But then, why annihilate so many of his own to prove his loyalty, only to betray his former liege not one day after? Was it a higher status he coveted? A twisted sense of justice to guide his actions? The more Kael'thas thought about it, the less sense it made.

"My brother is an idiot," Vaala said suddenly. "A clever idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. Just the other day, he swore he wouldn't stand for any more of us being killed if he could help it. And then... well," she gestured towards him vaguely, "_this_."

Kael'thas flinched. The one word was heavy with blame. "If it is any comfort, I find this situation just as confusing," he said.

Vaala waved a hand dismissively. "Confusing? Not so much. If anything, I'd say he tries to justify my own actions through yours. He seems to think you had no free will in anything you did, just as I..." She hesitated a little. "I did some things he couldn't understand, and he was quick to shift the blame and act as though nothing happened after."

Kael'thas was intrigued at this. "I was under the impression that you and your brother have always been on the same side," he said tentatively.

"Wrong," Vaala said with unexpected forcefulness. Then, softening her voice a little, she added, "Back on Draenor, I used to serve one whom you once called your master."

It pained him to even think of the name, but he had to ask. "Kil'jaeden?"

"No. The one before him."

"Illidan..." Kael'thas said, surprised. "What became of him in the end?"

"Dead," Vaala said flatly. "Just as I'd be if Reevan had turned me over to the Sha'tar after the war. Instead, he did everything in his power to clear my name, and even saw to it that I join the Shattered Sun Offensive and be given an appropriate rank. To this day, he believes that Illidan had me under a charm of some sort and everything I did was because of that. He wants to think the same of you, lest he has to accept the fact that he was wrong all along."

For a while, the rushing wind and the rhythmic beating of the drake's powerful wings were the only sounds to be heard.

"We all made mistakes," Kael'thas said at length.

Vaala ran a hand through her hair, then sighed. "The only mistake I ever made was thinking that I was above caring for anyone but myself," she said, so faintly that Kael'thas barely heard the words. Suddenly, she straightened up and whistled sharply. Cloudsting descended obediently until he was just close enough to touch. "There's the island," she said, climbing in the saddle with seemingly no effort at all. "Remember what I told you, and don't do anything stupid. If we're lucky, we'll be on our way before anyone ever knows we were there."

Once their mounts drifted apart, Kael'thas began to wonder about the meaning of her earlier words. With little choice in the matter, he resigned to maybe asking about it sometime later... if there was any 'later' to be had at all after tonight.

**2.**

Reevan awoke to the feel of something soft brushing against his cheek. He was still for a long time after, until the pounding in his temples subsided to a bearable level and his chest stopped burning with every breath. Only then, he opened his eyes. Once his sight adjusted to the near-darkness he was in, he began to make out the familiar details of his chambers. He took a deep breath and forced himself to think through the thick layer of confusion that all but blanked his mind, starting with the two most immediate facts. He was somehow back on Quel'danas, and obviously still alive, which meant that somebody of the Shattered Sun Offensive had found his unconscious body and carried him back to safety. This, in turns, meant that the Offensive knew, at the very least, that something had happened on the beach.

The fact that he was unguarded and unrestrained could only signify that his involvement was still unknown... at least, he corrected himself wearily, not known with enough certainty for him to be treated as anything other than an injured comrade-in-arms. However, there would be questions, of that he had no doubt. In his current condition he was barely fit to think, let alone come up with a plausible reason as to why he'd been found nearly drained of all his magic and surrounded by the bodies of Ilastar's scouts. To say nothing of the murdered courtier, whose death was bound to stir turmoil both here and in Silvermoon.

With an effort, Reevan pushed himself up. His vision swam dangerously for a few moments and he clutched at his temples with a hiss. Unconsciousness beckoned once more, but he stubbornly refused to abandon himself to it. He'd been out cold for a day at least; he wasn't about to waste even more time if he could help it. Somehow, he had to find a way to learn what the Offensive – and Ilastar in particular – knew, without disclosing any of his own insights. That in itself would be tricky. He had to put together a reasonable scenario, strong enough to abate suspicion but vague enough to dissuade any further inquiries. For a moment, he thought to claim that he'd been on his way to Silvermoon on unrelated matters when he'd been caught in the skirmish. Then again, while Ilastar was a greedy, pompous fool, he was certainly not stupid enough to fall for such a blatant lie.

Then, another idea emerged. Ilastar was naturally suspicious of everything and everyone. What if he would be presented with far-fetched conspiracy theory, claiming that anarchists – or, even better, loyalists of the late Sunstrider dynasty – had staged an ambush as a sort of payback for Magisters' Terrace? A sketchy recount of the incident would be more than enough to convince Ilastar that the danger came from rogue elements and not from within his own ranks... or, he realized with a frustrated sigh, it could shift suspicion towards him as the sole survivor of a mysteriously one-sided fight.

All things considered, it was probably best to avoid Ilastar altogether, at least for a while. Assuming the Grand Magister didn't send for him personally, Reevan could always invoke exhaustion as a reason not to see him, while using scrying orbs and other means to try and ascertain what further action, if any, was being taken to clarify the previous night's incidents. Vaala and Kael'thas had to be a safe distance away by now, so any further searching would probably turn up nothing. This left Reevan with no concern other than to cover his own tracks and hope Ilastar wouldn't be daft enough to act against him without conclusive evidence.

In the meantime, there was one other he could confide in, although thinking about his old companion hardly brought the comfort it had once. Andurien, his long-time friend and comrade-in-arms, was currently lodging with a few others of his order across Dawning Square. He was one those few to firmly stand against the notion of even more bloodshed, although his opposition came mostly from his beliefs as a priest rather than any personal conviction. Nevertheless, he'd kept his own contingent from taking part in assaulting the Magisters' Terrace, just as Reevan had, and suffered a considerable loss of prestige as a result. If anyone could be entrusted with the knowledge that their once-sovereign had returned from beyond the grave, Andurien was the one.

His resolve made, Reevan tried to stand, only to fall back with a gasp when his legs proved to be too weak to support him. Still, he wouldn't give up so easily. First, he took several deep breaths, forcefully clearing his mind and drawing on his magic – such as it were – to support him. Then, he held out a hand and envisioned his trusty staff, which materialized in his grasp. Finally, using the staff as a crutch of sorts, he pushed to his feet once more and took a few tentative steps. Going anywhere in this condition was out of the question, but he could at least make it to one of the guards outside and send for Andurien, then hope to have enough strength left to return to his chambers on his own.

It took an eternity until he reached the doors, and once there he had to lean against them for a long minute to catch his breath. Then, he twisted the doorknob and stepped through... only to draw back as fast as he could when he felt the tip of a sword press firmly against his chest.

Reevan glared at the blood elf guard and had the small satisfaction of seeing the woman flinch. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded. To his credit, his voice, at least, was firm.

The woman pulled her sword back and sketched a reluctant salute. "By order of Grand Magister Ilastar, you are to remain in your chambers, with no contact from anyone."

"What? _Why?_" The answer was obvious enough, but Reevan still acted with as much surprise and outrage as he could muster. So much for 'unguarded and unrestrained'.

"It is for your own safety, Spymaster. The Grand Magister believes that somebody is trying to assassinate you."

Reevan looked closely for signs of deception and saw none, which meant that the guard genuinely believed that his life was in danger. He frowned. What manner of game was Ilastar playing this time? Was he setting the stage for an actual assassination? Hardly surprising, if that were true. "And if I refuse?" he asked.

The guard fidgeted in obvious distress. "Then I am to use any means necessary to subdue you," she said miserably.

"I see." Inwardly, Reevan cursed at his weakness. On any other day, he would have simply used his magic to leave his chambers anyway, and damn it all to the Nether. "Please send someone to inform Ilastar that I wish to speak with him as soon as possible. In the meantime, I will-"

"Not possible, I'm afraid."

Reevan arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"The Grand Magister has left Quel'danas this morning. He isn't expected to return for at least two days."

This time, it took all of Reevan's self-discipline to keep himself from cursing out loud. Two _days_. This was nothing short of an insult. Then, an idea came. "You will at least allow me to see a healer, I hope?" He made a show of displaying his staff and drive home the point that he was hardly fit to walk without it.

The guard hesitated, then finally seemed to reach a decision. "I'll see what can be done. In the meantime, please return to your chambers."

Reevan nodded his acknowledgment and did as he was told, closing the doors behind him. He went to sit down on the bed again and, after a moment, reached under the pillow and took out a small pouch that jingled faintly at his touch. He smiled a little as he opened it to inspect its contents, then produced several coins made of solid gold. With Ilastar out of the picture, it was time to try one of the oldest tricks in the book.

**3.**

Although Vaala was formally a member of the Shattered Sun Offensive, she'd never quite taken to acting as part of a larger, more coordinated unit. Instead, throughout the assault on Quel'danas and, later, at Magisters' Terrace and Sunwell Plateau, she'd chosen to side with the mercenaries, who either fought on their own or banded together in small groups wherever the fighting was thickest. This, along with her battle prowess and overall lack of caring for the more pompous sin'dorei manners, had earned her a sort of grudging respect among them, which was now proving to be more useful than she'd ever expected. Anyone wearing the tabard of the Offensive would normally find themselves under close scrutiny once they set foot inside the mercenary camp. On the other hand, Vaala was allowed undisturbed passage from the wyvern pens, where she'd left Cloudsting, to the large tent that Dokra Felcrusher and her warband currently occupied.

They called themselves the Screaming Skulls and there were six of them, with Dokra as a leader of sorts, although the others were usually free to do as they pleased. All had left Orgrimmar in search for glory and traveled the length and width of Azeroth before finding their way to Quel'danas. Among them, Brogan the Savage was known for hunting the black dragons of Duskwallow Marsh for months on end. The battle harness he wore was made of their toughened scales, and none but the mightiest blows could ever hope to break through. Another, Morg Deathwalker, had crossed the entirety of the Desolace wastelands on foot in search for demons and other creatures to hunt and, unlike many other foolish adventurers and would-be heroes, had lived to tell the tale. He wore a necklace made of their wicked fangs and carried a sword that glowed with demonic runes.

Vaala didn't know much about the other three, other than their names and their most prominent skills. Harrah of the Frostwolf clan was a shaman, guiding the fury of the elements to wreak havoc among her enemies. Her mate, Kolthar the Swift, was nothing short of a whirlwind of destruction that didn't stop until the day was done and the battle was won. Finally, the troll, who went by the nickname 'Buzzard' and wouldn't let anyone call him anything else, was the more reclusive sort, using thin, sharp daggers or other throwing weapons to pick off his enemies from a safe distance away.

Outside the tent, Vaala found Morg and another orc she didn't recognize. They both stood to offer their greetings as she approached, then Morg poked his head through the tent flaps and announced loudly, "_Osh'khazil _returns!"

Vaala rolled her eyes. Dokra had given her the name _osh'khazil_, which meant 'heart of shadow' in her own tongue, after the first battle they'd fought together. She didn't mind being called that, although secretly she was glad it was just between her and the Screaming Skulls. Somehow, she doubted any of the other races would do anything but quirk an eyebrow in polite amusement at anyone calling themselves something so blatantly melodramatic.

When Dokra emerged from the tent, Vaala couldn't help but gape at her in surprise. Instead of her usual armor, the orc woman wore a simple brown dress and matching cuffs and beads. Her long, dark hair, usually tied back in a tightly-wound tail, was loose and fell nearly to the small of her back. Despite all that, however, she still looked every inch as imposing as ever. She clasped Vaala's forearm in a rough salute, then said, "I hadn't expected your return so soon, but you are welcome nonetheless. What of my mount?"

"I left him at the wyvern pens," Vaala answered. "Unharmed, as promised."

Dokra nodded once to show that she understood. "You are alone tonight," she said after, as though pointing out a trivial fact.

This was a subtle way to ask a question without actually asking, leaving the her with the choice to either answer or not. Vaala chose the former, for now. "Any news?" she asked instead.

"Nothing but what I assume you already know. The blood elves and the draenei keep to their own affairs and both want us off island as soon as possible. The Warchief is sending several ships for those who wish to return to Durotar, and there is another ship of the Forsaken fleet to ferry some others to the Undercity..." Dokra sighed, then continued, "I suppose we have no choice but to leave and let the winds take us where they may. What about you?"

Vaala shrugged. "The Undercity, unless something better comes up. When does the Forsaken ship leave, exactly?"

"First thing at dawn, I think."

"Damn," Vaala said under her breath. Then, a little louder, "I don't suppose you heard anything else?"

Dokra bit her lower lip, thinking. "Kolthar heard there was a skirmish on the continent last night," she said after a while. "Six dead, one barely alive. One of the officers took a full contingent with him and left for the mainland this morning to investigate. I saw the ship."

Vaala felt her heart beat a little faster. "What of the one who lived?" she breathed. "Where is he now?"

"Closely guarded, I'd say. Friend or foe, he's bound to hold valuable information. I doubt the Offensive would let him get away." Dokra hesitated a little, then put a hand on Vaala's shoulder and softened her voice. "_Osh'khazil._ I know your business is your own, but if you have any need of my strength, you have but to ask."

"You've already helped me more than you know," Vaala replied, looking the other woman in the eye. "Now, all I have to do is find a way to get my brother out of there and board the ship before it leaves. He is the prisoner you mentioned, by the way. I wish I could tell you more, but... the secret is not mine to give away."

"I understand," Dokra said gravely. "The ship has been boarding throughout the night, so you should have no trouble going unnoticed."

Of course, Vaala thought. Boarding the ship would be the easy part, assuming they didn't end up with the whole Offensive on their trail, but everything before that would be a pain in the rear to figure and execute. "I have one more favor to ask," she said after a few moments of silence. "Send someone to the southern end of the island and tell the man they find there to meet me at the docks, and bring the drake. They _do _have pens inside the ship, right?" When Dokra nodded, she spoke on, "If he doesn't listen... show him this." She removed her Illidari pedant and pressed it in Dokra's palm. Parting with it after so long was fairly uncomfortable, but time was short and Vaala had no other items that would be so easily recognized.

The jewel glistened faintly for a few moments, catching the dim light and reflecting it at odd angles, then Dokra closed her fingers over it. "I will go myself," she said, "and meet you at the docks when you are done. What is this man called?"

Vaala blinked. Of all the obvious things, how could she have missed this one? "Whatever he fancies, really," she answered vaguely. "He _will _be suspicious at first, so make sure you tell him I'll have his hide if he doesn't do as I say. And try to keep out of sight."

"He'll be where you want him to be," Dokra said with a toothy grin. "You have my word."

Vaala returned the grin, although inwardly she felt far less convinced than she let show. There were many things that could go wrong in the following hours and, all things considered, Kael'thas was the least of her concerns. _What a mess_, she thought wryly as she walked away, trying to think of a plan that didn't chance to end with either her, Reevan or the prince on the wrong end of a spear or sword.

**4.**

The healer had come, done his job, then left without a word. All the while, two guards in full plate armor had watched them intently from the door, swords half-drawn in an obvious warning that any action that looked even remotely out of place would be met with immediate consequences. Reevan was beyond frustrated by this point. Truthfully, he did feel considerably more refreshed than before, to the point where he could stand and pace around without having to lean on his staff for support. On the other hand, he was still trapped and with no means of contacting anyone on the outside, much less of learning what, if any, had been uncovered in his absence. Worse still, while he saw Ilastar's absence for what it was – another way for the Grand Magister to taunt him into acting rashly once the time of confrontation finally came – part of him couldn't help but dread the chances, however slim, that his sister and her charge would be found out. Damn it all.

A loud knock on the door made Reevan start in surprise. It was almost dawn, and he certainly wasn't expecting any more intrusions after the night's earlier interlude. He composed himself quickly, then called, "Enter."

The doors parted just slightly to let in another guard. Reevan straightened up and glared at her. "What is the mean-" he began before stopping abruptly mid-word. He did a double-take, thinking for a moment that his eyes were deceiving him. "_Vaala!_"

Vaala did a small curtsy. "Hello, brother," she said pleasantly, as though her being here was the most natural thing in the world.

"What... what the blazes are you _doing _here?" Reevan asked, surprise and shock making him stutter. "Where is-"

"I came to get you, you big _idiot_. And don't worry, _he_'s perfectly safe with Dokra and the others. Grab your things. We're leaving."

Reevan blinked. Safe? Dokra? _Leaving? _"What?"

Vaala rolled her eyes. "_Look. _We can either stay here and debate exactly how much danger our lives are in right now, or get a move on and be well on our way before the Offensive ever know that we're gone. Now get a move on, before I knock you out and drag you to the docks myself."

There was no 'debating', really. The guard's earlier words came back with crystal clarity: _somebody is trying to assassinate you..._ If that somebody was Ilastar – and, Reevan thought bitterly, that in itself wasn't too much of a stretch – then it was only sensible to leave. He retrieved the gold pouch, then his staff, then finally a satchel that contained a few other items and reagents that would probably come in handy at some point. All this took less than a minute. "That is all," he announced after. Then, another thought came. "How do you intend to get me out of here, though? There will be more guards, and one of them is bound to-"

"I'll think of something," Vaala cut in impatiently. "Come on."

With little choice left, Reevan followed his sister out into the antechamber, past the guard who appeared to be caught in a deep sleep, then down a ramp and out into Dawning Square. The two guards that were usually posted on either side of the entrance were mysteriously absent, but Reevan decided now wasn't the most appropriate time to ask why. He did his best to act as he would normally do, keeping his eyes trained firmly ahead and walking at a casual pace. After a while, he began to relax a little. This plan was just crazy enough to work. He was about to point that out when he spotted a figure clad in a dusky cloak coming from the other side. It took a moment longer to put a name to the face: Seradane Dustweaver, Ilastar's right-hand man. Reevan felt his hopes sink once more. Their escape appeared to be over before it had even begun.

"Captain Dustweaver," Vaala said with a dashing smile that was entirely inappropriate under the circumstances. "I'd say it's a pleasure, but as you know, I'm a _terrible_ liar."

Seradane presented her with a carefully-studied polite expression. "Is that so? Then tell me, why do you find yourself in the company of a suspected traitor who was supposed to be under house arrest? You of all people should know to tread lightly after-"

"My _brother _and I are simply out for a morning stroll," Vaala interrupted, stressing the first two words slightly. "I'll thank you to get out of the way."

Seradane lowered his voice a little. "You do realize it would only take one word from me to have the entire garrison up in arms... _right?_" He all but whispered the last word, looking thoroughly delighted with the position he was in.

Vaala shrugged with feigned nonchalance even as one hand brushed against the hilt of a sword. "You could, yes," she answered, "but I would still kill you before they got to me."

Seradane opened his mouth to answer, but before any sound could come out his eyes glazed over and he stepped back, one hand flying up to his temple and the other reaching for his sword before freezing at an awkward angle. He remained like that for a few moments, then inexplicably turned and walked away, staggering like a drunken man.

Vaala arched an eyebrow and glanced sideways at her brother. "Did... did you do that?" she whispered.

"_I_ did," came another voice from behind them.

Reevan knew the voice all too well, though he hadn't expected to hear it at all tonight. When he turned around, he saw a writhing mass of shadows that all but became one with the darkness. This was hardly surprising, however. Despite his calling, Andurien was well-versed in the ways of shadow magic. Concealing his presence in such a manner was almost second nature to him by now.

"I'd hoped to speak with you before the Grand Magister returned, but I see that will have to wait until another time since the two of you decided to take matters into your own hands," Andurien spoke on, his voice a curious monotone. "For the sake of our friendship, I will allow you passage this one time. Be on your way -" he hesitated a little, and the shadows almost paused in their hypnotizing swirling to reveal the faint outlines of a sad smile "- but know that the next time we meet may be under entirely different circumstances."

"Thank you for that," Vaala said quickly, although her usual brashness was gone, replaced by something akin to apprehension. Then, she grabbed Reevan's arm and half-forced him to turn again. "Let's go,"she hissed, "before he changes his mind. Our yours."

Reevan let himself be lead away for several paces before he finally glanced over his shoulder, but Andurien was already nowhere to be seen. His cryptic warning was unsettling. Why let them go if he planned to come after them anyway? What did he know? Reluctantly, Reevan decided to set the questions aside for later.

They walked in silence for several minutes, leaving Dawnstar Village behind. Shortly after they passed the armory, from which the loud, ambitious noise of hammering could still be heard even at this hour. Eventually, it dawned on Reevan that his sister had never mentioned what she actually intended for them to do. "Where are we going?" he asked as that particular thought finally pushed its way to the top of his awareness.

"The docks," Vaala answered without slowing. "We have a ship to catch."

"Where to?" Reevan asked again when it became clear that was all she was going to offer, but she said nothing more. He could already feel the salty breeze and hear the rustling of waves, which meant they were getting closer to Sun's Reach Harbor. Sure enough, when he looked carefully he was able to spot the masts of several ships drifting against the sky, and soon the ships themselves came into view. There were three of sin'dorei craft, and one more that looked as though made of impossibly white wood. The latter was of a far more crude design and appeared to be built for endurance and a heavy load rather than speed or grace. Its front was adorned with a surprisingly elaborate rendition of a skull, and its twin sails bore a crest that he recognized after a few moments. It was the mark of the Banshee Queen.

The Forsaken ship looked ready to set sail. Vaala quickened her pace even more, but instead of making straight for the vessel she lead them towards where a group of orcs were standing or lounging in the shadow of another building. Among them, Reevan spotted Dokra the mercenary. Next to her he saw Kael'thas, who straightened up and smiled with obvious relief when he spotted them in turns. As they came closer, Reevan saw with surprise that he was wearing Vaala's pedant. It was the first time his sister had ever parted with it, and for some reason he knew it to be a sign of great trust on her part, which in itself was thoroughly unexpected.

"Throm-ka!" Vaala shouted when they were still a dozen or so paces away.

"You're just in time, _osh'khazil_," Dokra called back, pointing to the sky that was already turning a milky-white color. "Your drake is already on board with our mounts, and I brought your man as promised."

Vaala surveyed the group briefly, then her eyes finally met Dokra's. "We owe you twice over," she said with unusual reverence. "You have our gratitude."

Dokra waved a hand. "Think nothing of it, sister. It looks like we won't be parting ways for a while still, so there's time enough for you to repay your debt in kind. Now let's get on with it. From what I hear, the captain is as impatient as they come."

"Do they know what they are getting themselves into?" Reevan whispered as the group started towards the ship at a brisk pace.

Vaala stopped abruptly and motioned for him to do the same, then waited until they were out of earshot. "As far as they know," she said slowly, "they helped a comrade and her kin when help was asked for, knowing that she would do the same for them if it ever came down to it."

Reevan thought about this, realizing with a start just how wrong he'd been thus far. His own people, who fancied themselves to be the most cultured and civilized of all the races, turned on each other like vicious dogs if there was any gain to be had at all. On the other hand, these orcs – these would-be savages, as he'd mistakenly considered them for the longest time – were aiding one who wasn't even of the same race, without intruding and without asking for anything in return. Reevan doubted they knew the true identity of Kael'thas, and while it was probably a stretch to assume it wouldn't make a difference to them if they did, the fact still remained that both himself and the prince were strangers whose only merit in the eyes of the warband was that they were Vaala's 'kin'.

"I was wrong," Reevan said faintly as they finally set foot on the wooden deck of the Forsaken ship.

"Hardly a surprise," Vaala answered without missing a beat.


	5. Revelations

**CHAPTER 5**

**1.**

Grand Magister Ilastar paced the deck of the Wavesinger with calculated slowness and even spared a nod or two towards some of the crew, although inwardly he wanted nothing more than something to set on fire and watch it burn. The search had yielded no further clues as to what had happened on the mainland, other than the information that a courtier had been found dead on the same beach not a day before. This incident was hardly interesting on its own, since court succession was just the kind of messy affair that was bound to turn up a body or two. Nevertheless and against his better judgment, Ilastar had asked for an audience with Rommath on the off-chance that he could find out more. Predictably enough, the audience had turned out to be nothing but a colossal waste of time, and at the end of it Rommath had ordered Ilastar to return to his duties on Quel'danas at once.

To make matters worse, a messenger riding a dragonhawk had caught up with the Wavesinger just as she was leaving the continent, bearing an encrypted missive from Captain Dawnhearth. According to it, Seradane Dustweaver appeared to have gone mad. He'd been found wandering the northern coast, babbling half-words that made no sense, and then he'd tried to strangle an officer before two other men had finally subdued him. Ilastar had sent back a curt reply ordering that Seradane be kept under close watch somewhere that he couldn't be a threat to himself or to others, and now he was more than anxious to figure out this latest puzzle that fate had seen fit to throw his way. The failed search still bothered him, in the way that loose ends always did. Still, at least he had one prisoner that he could question for information once everything else would be dealt with.

The Wavesinger was sailing at full speed now, but Ilastar's impatience made it look like they were going at a snail's pace. When she finally reached Sun's Reach Harbor, Ilastar didn't wait for any bridge to be lowered. Instead, he teleported himself to the docks.

Captain Dawnhearth was already waiting there, along with a handful of his guards as the protocol demanded. For once, however, Ilastar didn't care for that. "Where is he, captain?" he demanded. "Where is Seradane?"

Dawnhearth saluted. "Closely guarded, as you ordered. This way."

He couldn't have 'gone insane', Ilastar thought as he followed Dawnhearth and his men. People like Seradane Dustweaver didn't just snap and try to kill the first hapless being they came across. Something else had to be at play here. His suspicions were confirmed a few minutes later, when he was shown into a cramped underground room and he saw his right-hand man lounging in a ruined armchair and looking perfectly at ease despite having his arms bound tightly at his sides.

"Thank the Sun you're back," Seradane said as soon as he saw Ilastar enter. "Maybe you can talk some sense into these buffoons. They won't let me go!"

"He wasn't like that when I left him, Grand Magister!" Dawnhearth said quickly, looking thoroughly baffled. "I... I don't know how-"

"It is _painfully_ obvious that whatever charm he was under has worn off," Ilastar snapped. "Have someone cut his bonds already."

Dawnhearth caught himself enough to nod to one of the guards, who hurried to obey. As soon as he was free, Seradane jumped to his feet, rubbing his swollen wrists to get the blood flowing again. Ilastar observed him closely, at the same reaching out with his arcane senses to search of any traces of magic that may have lingered beyond the charm's intended duration. Maybe it was because his knowledge on mind tricks was sketchy at best, but his efforts turned up nothing at all.

"Captain," Ilastar said, sparing a glance towards Dawnhearth. "Make sure nobody else finds out about this. And... you there... what is your name?"

The guard in question stiffened to attention. "Lerida Swiftblade, sir!"

"Swiftblade it is, then. Find me a priest, and make sure he isn't one of those imbeciles who only know how to parrot the Holy Book. Have him sent to my study straight away."

Swiftblade saluted and left, nearly tripping over the bottom stair in the process. Ilastar resisted a strong urge to roll his eyes. Good grief, was he cursed to deal with such incompetents until the end of his days? "Walk with me," he said to Seradane. "You and I have some things to discuss."

"Why was I detained?" Seradane asked once they were outside and heading back towards the building that Ilastar had claimed as his own.

Ilastar arched an eyebrow. "I was hoping _you _could enlighten _me,_" he answered. "All I know is what Dawnhearth told me... that you went mad and tried to kill someone."

"You'd think I'd remember something like that," Seradane muttered with a shrug.

"Well, what _do_ you remember?"

Seradane paused, scratching the back of his head in obvious distress. "I'm... not sure," he said. "I was going to... and..." For the first time since Ilastar knew him, he looked completely at a loss. "I don't know... It was probably late night or early morning, and I was going... somewhere. The next thing I remember is waking up in that chair and feeling like my wrists would snap off." He said the last part with a scowl.

Complaining aside, there was a valid thread of thought here. Ilastar decided to pursue it. "How late?" he asked.

"Well after the midnight rounds. I know I saw two guards walking past, and I heard one of them say to the other that they'd just wasted the most interesting part of the night with... _with_... oh, _damn_ it all!"

"Take your time," Ilastar said with more patience than he felt. "Your mind has been tampered with, but the priest should be able to sort you out." _At least, for his sake, I hope he will_, he went on to think. For all their much-toted holiness, some of the priests that Ilastar knew could do things to one's mind that would put even the warlocks of the Burning Legion at shame.

They didn't say anything else to each other until they reached Ilastar's study. There were some papers waiting on the desk, but a cursory glance revealed nothing urgent enough to warrant his immediate attention. One of the documents – the one at the top of the pile, no less – carried the seal of Vindicator Kaalan, which probably meant the draenei had found one more thing to complain about. Ilastar felt his irritation return. If he had his way, the draenei would have long since left Quel'danas, one way or another. It was nothing short of an insult to tolerate their presence and even have them think themselves important enough to have a say in how the blood elves ran their affairs. The battle for Sunwell Plateau was already in the past. The future beckoned, and with people like Grand Magister Ilastar at the helm, it promised to be a glorious one indeed.

It looked like the priest wouldn't arrive for a while still, and so Ilastar entertained himself with visions of said future in the meantime. He could see himself not having to answer to Kaalan, or Rommath, or even the Reagent Lord. He didn't covet Lor'themar's position, of course, since that was bound to make him unpopular with both the commoners and the court, but-

"I think I remember one more thing," Seradane said suddenly, making Ilastar snap out of his thoughts. "I was going to check on the prisoner."

Ilastar's eyes narrowed. "_The_ prisoner?"

"The very same. I wanted... yes, I wanted to make sure that your orders were being carried out. I doubt I ever got to him, though."

Something about that statement didn't sound quite right, but before Ilastar could question him any further, the doors opened and a priest was shown in. And he wasn't just any priest, either, Ilastar noted with surprise. His name was Andurien and he belonged to one of the oldest and most prestigious noble families in Silvermoon City, even though rumors had it that he'd cut all ties with his former life when he'd joined the Order of Light. He'd served as a liaison with the draenei anchorites on occasion, but shown no ambitions beyond that, which meant that he was either modest or simply biding his time.

"I was told you have need of my skills, Grand Magister," Andurien said after bowing in a formal greeting. "How may I be of service?"

It was good to know that some people, at least, still had the decency to treat him with the deference his rank commanded. "My man here -" Ilastar gestured towards Seradane, who hadn't moved at all since they'd arrived "- was recently the victim of a psychic attack. His memories of last night appear to have vanished altogether. I want you to do whatever it takes to find out what his assailant was so intent on making him forget."

Andurien considered this. "Are you certain? It will not be easy, and certainly not pleasant for either of us."

"Whatever it takes," Ilastar said again, more forcefully this time. "If there is a threat to the Offensive, I want to know it."

Andurien nodded gravely. "It will be done, then."

"Good," Ilastar said. He was about to add something else when suddenly he heard several voices rise in an argument just outside his doors. One of them said clearly, "The Grand Magister must be informed at once!"

Ilastar stood up, rushed to the doors and threw them wide open. Inside the antechamber were two of his guards and a third one who looked out of breath. "What is going on?" he asked loudly. "What must I be informed of?"

The third guard, the one who looked like she'd just arrived, stood to attention. "I return from Spymaster Dawnstrike's chambers," she said miserably. "He isn't there."

For several moments, Ilastar's mind refused to comprehend the words. "Are you telling me," he said slowly, "that the man I _specifically _ordered to be guarded and restrained has somehow managed to escape?"

The guard flinched. "Y-yes."

Ilastar felt his anger rise so high that for several moments he was speechless. How was it possible that a mere day of absence would lead to everything folding like a sandcastle at high tide? "Well don't just stand there gaping like an idiot! _Find him!_" He was shouting now, but he didn't care. "I want every corner of this island searched, _twice!_ And don't come back until either you have him or you can tell me _exactly_ where he is! Is that understood?"

The guard saluted, then rushed away, looking equally relieved at the sudden dismissal and terrified at the thought of failure. Ilastar took a deep breath to calm himself. It didn't work. He returned to his study, slamming the doors shut behind him. "You," he said to Andurien, who was watching him expectantly, "do your work, and be quick about it."

"As you wish, Grand Magister," Andurien said levelly as set to the laborious task of undoing the threads of the very same charm he'd placed on Seradane's mind the night before.

**2.**

Despite her massive bulk, the Darkening was surprisingly fast. If the ship didn't lower her speed, Kael'thas estimated that it would take them roughly three days to reach the coast of Tirisfal Glades, perhaps even less if the wind didn't change. He'd spent most of the journey thus far on the deck, braving the near-blinding sunlight and the curious glances the Forsaken threw him every now and then, until the view on the continent had changed from the relative greenery of Eversong Woods to the eerie, misshapen and far less pleasant sight of the Ghostlands. Only then, he'd reluctantly agreed to let the orc who was watching over him while the Dawnstrikes were presumably busy elsewhere – Morg something-or-another – lead him two levels below deck, to where what had once been a storage room had been transformed into a commons of sorts.

Apparently, aside from immortality and the uncanny endurance that came with the lack of need for any kind of rest or sustenance, undeath had at least one drawback in the odors of rot and decay that permeated everything down here. Kael'thas didn't know if the Forsaken still had their sense of smell, but either way, being on this ship reminded him of taking a stroll through a battlefield several days after the battle. At first, the stench had made his stomach turn, and the only thing keeping him from actually getting sick had been the fact that he had nothing to throw up.

And then – as if the smell of rotting wood and flesh wasn't enough – the mercenaries themselves, who were present in surprisingly large numbers, seemed hardly concerned with even the most basic notions of personal hygiene. The commons reeked of mud and sweat, and probably spilled blood if that had any odor at all. Of course, Kael'thas was in hardly better a condition himself. He doubted the ship offered anything akin to a shower or, even better, a bath, but that didn't stop him from wishing for one. He remembered the royal bathhouse in Sunstrider Spire, with its marble pools and clear waters spiced with scented oils brought from across the continent. It had been the perfect place to unwind, alone or in the company of maidens ready to cater to their prince's every whim. The memory made him sigh wistfully even as part of him realized that those times would not be coming back.

In contrast, this new life he'd found himself thrown into so unceremoniously could only appear as crude and disheartening as this foul place. Hammocks woven from thick rope lined every wall and a number of ragged blankets were piled up in one corner, although given the choice between so much as touching one of those... _things_... or spending a whole night shivering in the cold, Kael'thas would have probably picked the latter. Nevertheless, several hammocks were occupied by orcs and trolls wrapped tightly in covers that looked suspiciously like those in the pile. The smell didn't seem to bother them, and neither did the loud noises that drifted randomly from above. There was shouting and laughing and chanting and the Sun knew what else.

Kael'thas glared at Morg... ah, was it Deathwhisper? Deathsinger? Death-_something_, it had to be. He was fast asleep in his own hammock, cradling a gigantic two-handed sword wrapped tightly in ragged cloth. He envied the orc. Every time he closed his eyes and felt himself drifting off into a much-needed sleep, the ruckus would bring him back to reality with an unpleasant jolt. Things _were _bound to quiet down eventually, because even mercenaries needed their rest. Kael'thas could only hope that his frayed sanity would hold until then. Once again, he found himself regretting the relative peace and seclusion of his former life... _lives_, actually. He dismissed the thought, refusing to let himself become nostalgic. The past was the past, and the future was...

Kael'thas pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. What _did_ the future hold, exactly? He was in the care of the Dawnstrike siblings for now, but surely neither of them was planning on being his keeper for the rest of his days. They would reach the Undercity, and they would maybe band together for a while after, and... what then?

**3.**

"What now?" Reevan asked, pausing for a moment to note with curious amusement that somewhere along the way he'd relinquished the informal leadership of their band without so much as a second thought.

"Stop grinning," Vaala scolded half-heartedly, although her expression mirrored his own. "Everything went better than expected _until now_, but I know from experience that if something looks too good to be true, it probably isn't."

Reevan had to agree with this. He'd been wondering how long their luck would hold, too. "Ilastar will certainly not be pleased that I slipped through his fingers so easily," he said. "There will be some pursuit, although I wouldn't expect anything too obvious. Even with Lor'themar's best efforts and the Banshee Queen's good intentions, our alliance with the Forsaken is still-"

"You can lecture me on Horde politics another time, brother. Tell me more about this Grand Magister Ilastar. What's he like?"

"Crafty," Reevan answered after a few moments. "I've known him since my early days in Dalaran, and I saw him worm his way into the upper ranks of the Kirin Tor faster than anyone before him. Given his utter lack of talent, I can only assume-"

"He's ambitious, then. What else?"

"He is _very_ ambitious," Reevan corrected. "Most of the Shattered Sun Offensive answer to him rather than any of the other officers. Ilastar himself reports to Grand Magister Rommath formally, although his loyalty is questionable at best. It would hardly surprise me if he tries to usurp Rommath's seat on the Council of Silvermoon at some point."

"What a _lovely _character," Vaala muttered, running a hand through her hair. "Almost reminds me of myself, in a way."

"Believe me," Reevan said quickly, "the two of you are _nothing_ alike."

Vaala shrugged. "I'll take your word for it." She paused a little. "Anyway, you seem to know Ilastar better than I do. What else can we expect?"

Reevan considered the question. "From what I know, he has contacts in every major city from here to the Blasted Lands, so will be able to track us fairly easily if he sets his mind to it. If any of us are found... well, you have already seen the kind of people he employs. Their orders will likely be to find out everything we know, and then-" The gesture he made was more than eloquent. "It isn't far-fetched to assume that he already figured out where we are, which means he knows where we are going, which means-"

"-which means we'll be expected there," Vaala finished the sentence for him.

"We might have to stay away from the Undercity altogether," Reevan said darkly. "I don't fancy going to sleep one night and waking up in the afterlife with a dagger in my throat."

Vaala laughed a little. "I was thinking the same, actually. We _could_ fly south... past Silverpine, over the Alterac Mountains and into Hillsbrad. With all the fighting there, we might be able to slip past the Forsaken outposts and resupply at Tarren Mills."

Reevan didn't ask where she planned on going from there, since it was likely that hadn't thought about it at all. As long as they had their drake, they could easily keep ahead of any pursuit, at least for a time, and hope that an alternative would present itself at some point.

"At least we're all still alive to be thinking about what to do," Vaala said at length, reaching out to take his hand and squeeze it gently. "As long as that doesn't change, we'll find a way."

Reevan smiled. "You always seem to find a way to achieve the unachievable, Vaala. I wasn't expecting you to come back for me, you know. I had all but resigned to my fate when-"

"Oh, _please,_" Vaala cut in, rolling her eyes with feigned annoyance. "I thought you knew me better than that."

"Apparently, there are many things I hardly know anything about," Reevan mused. "Such as your friends, the orcs. Do you suppose I should thank them again when I have the chance?"

"That... wouldn't hurt, if you feel like it. Then again, they already seem to like you. I told them some stories while you were busy paying our fare and they all agreed that you're-"

"-more than just some weakling in drag?"

They both laughed at this, then Vaala straightened up and looked him in the eye. "One thing at a time," she said quietly. "We can decide what to do once we make landfall. For now, you should get some rest and recover your strength. It's been a long night."

**4.**

"My brain feels like it's being trampled by a pack of rabid kodos," Seradane complained as soon as he and Ilastar were finally alone. He looked sickeningly pale and slouched in his chair, no longer caring that he appeared miserable and weak. "Why didn't you let that priest finish the job? I could have _really_ used some-"

"In due time," Ilastar said irritably, even though he couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the rogue. "First, tell me what you remember. Tell me everything, even if you think it might not be important."

Seradane glared at him, but obliged nonetheless. "I was going to check on the prisoner, like I said. I'd just crossed Dawning Square when I saw him coming from the other side. I don't think he was alone..." He tapped his forehead idly. "Yes, I'm fairly sure his sister was with him."

"How did he manage to get out?" Ilastar questioned, not bothering to hide his displeasure. "I distinctly remember leaving strict orders that he wasn't to have any contact with anyone until my return."

Seradane shrugged weakly. "That Vaala is a fairly resourceful woman, from what I hear. None of the guards ever realized there was anything amiss, and no-one raised the alarm."

"Why didn't you?"

Seradane sagged a little. "I never had the chance," he answered. "She... did something to me. It couldn't have been the other, he looked like he was about to keel over then and there."

"I see..." Ilastar drummed his fingers on the table lightly. "They weren't going _away_ from the garrison, as one might expect, but instead..." The drumming stopped abruptly. "Were there any ships set to leave this morning?"

"The Darkening," Seradane answered after a few moments. "Bound for the Undercity, I believe."

Ilastar's expression froze as several more pieces of the puzzle fell into place. He remembered spotting another ship in the distance as the Wavesinger made for Quel'danas and feeling more than a little relieved at the thought that more of those despicable mercenaries were off the island for good. That feeling came back as if to spite him. If _only_ he'd known... But then, he couldn't have risked antagonizing the Forsaken even though his cause was just. Such a diplomatic blunder would have been cause for more scrutiny from Silvermoon, and that was the last thing Ilastar needed right now. No... if the fugitives were indeed on that ship, then there was only one other course of action he could take.

"You may go, for now," Ilastar said to Seradane. "Do not go too far, though. You will be traveling to the Undercity tonight."

Seradane's grimace made it fairly obvious what he thought of that particular notion. "Even if I fly there, it will take me far longer to reach-"

"Who said anything about flying?" Ilastar asked in a tone that made it clear he wouldn't stand for any further objections. "The priest will be coming with you to prevent any more... unfortunate incidents. Send someone to have him prepare for the journey on your way out."

Seradane looked ready to argue some more, then he thought better of it. "By your leave, then," he said stiffly.

As soon as Seradane had gone, Ilastar withdrew a fresh sheet of parchment, a quill and a vial of ink. He dipped the quill in the vial, then paused a little as he gathered his thoughts. Finally, he wrote:

_To,_

_Her Royal Majesty, Sylvanas Windrunner, _

_Banshee Queen of the Forsaken._

_I apologize for the haste with which this missive is written, but I must inform you at once that two blood elf renegades have taken refuge aboard one of your ships that has just set sail from Quel'danas, called the Darkening. Both are extremely dangerous and are wanted for crimes against the Shattered Sun Offensive and the free people of Quel'thalas. _

_Therefore, I humbly request that you entrust the bearers of this missive with the command of a dozen of your finest Deathstalkers, to assist in the capture of these criminals so that they may be brought to swift justice. Your assistance will, of course, entitle you to any manner of reward that the blood elves can provide. _

_Respectfully yours,_

_Ilastar Felor'idal, _

_Grand Magister of Silvermoon and Supreme Commander of the Shattered Sun Offensive._

Ilastar read the message once more, then folded the parchment and sealed it. The Banshee Queen had been a steadfast ally to the blood elves in the past. It was only just to assume that she would remain true to her actions from here on out. And if not, he trusted Seradane enough to know that he could come up with a suitable alternative long before the Darkening reached her destination.

**5.**

Kael'thas had managed to sleep for a while – or, at least, his mind had tired of turning on itself and shut down on its own. He didn't remember dreaming and, all things considered, maybe that was for the best. He certainly didn't care to confront whatever memories lurked in the depths of his subconscious just yet.

The first thing he became aware of was that somebody was shaking his shoulder none-too-gently. His first instinct was to pull back, but apparently the hammock he was in didn't allow room for such a motion, and so the next thing he knew was that he was laying flat on a floor that likely hadn't seen a mop since the end of the Third War. For a moment, he almost felt tempted to swear like Vaala had taught him the night before. Instead, he pulled himself into a slightly more dignified position and dusted himself off for all the good it did.

"Sorry about that," came a voice that Kael'thas recognized straight away, "but you sleep like the dead." A moment later, Vaala sat down next to him with an apologetic look. "And... sorry about _that_, I guess. You know what I meant."

"Think nothing of it," Kael'thas muttered, stifling a yawn. "Has something happened?"

"No, everything is fine... for now," Vaala added after a small hesitation. "I came to get my pedant back."

"Your pedant? Ah... of course." Kael'thas reached around and unfastened the clasp, then handed it to her. "That is quite a curious artifact, by the way," he went on. "How did you acquire it?"

Vaala paused, running a finger over the smooth surface of the jewel and seeming lost in some memory. "It was... a gift," she said vaguely, and he knew that was all that she intended to let him know.

On the other hand, Kael'thas wouldn't settle for secrecy this time. "A gift, you say," he said lightly. "Whoever gave it to you must have been a war hero, then."

Vaala arched an eyebrow. "Why would you say something like that?"

"Because I knew I had seen it somewhere before since Dokra first showed it to me last night, and now I remember where. And since Lady Vashj seemed so fond of it back then, I doubt that she parted with it willingly."

Vaala's expression didn't change, which was enough of a reaction in itself. "How strange," she said, her voice carrying only the smallest hint of surprise. "I've always thought that jewel was from Draenor."

"It had me wondering as well," Kael'thas said, the scholar in him beaming at the opportunity. "I believe, however, that this is simply an altered seaspray emerald. The enchantments threw me off at first, but I suppose even a Highborne would have trouble setting them apart... or maybe it was a Highborne who set them in the first place. There is one to enhance its natural structure, making it more dense and resilient, and another whose purpose eludes me still. All in all, this would make a good focus and an excellent conduit... for..." He trailed off, noticing at last that Vaala was looking at him with an odd expression. "Is something wrong?"

"You lost me," Vaala said flatly. "I'm no enchanter, and certainly not a mage," she explained when he appeared thoroughly confused. "Keep talking, though. Maybe I can learn a thing or two."

Kael'thas almost gave an offended reply before he caught himself. It wasn't easy, after having been treated with the utmost deference and respect for most of his life, to be spoken to like... a companion? A friend? Whatever Vaala thought of him, her sincerity was irritating... and yet it was strangely refreshing at the same time. "All right. The jewel will naturally attract any kind of energy it comes in contact with, provided it is strong enough to be picked up. Most of that energy is cycled right back towards the nearest available conduit – or, in other words, whoever wears the pedant at that time. A small part of it is being stored inside and can be drawn upon in... ah, I believe, as you would say, 'in a pinch'. And then, there is another process which truly puzzles me." He hesitated, trying to word his findings in a way that she could understand. "From what I found," he began slowly, "an infinitesimal fraction of that energy simply disappears."

Vaala held up one finger. "Energy is lost all the time, though," she argued. "Even the strongest charm decays over time... right?"

"Not exactly," Kael'thas said patiently. "Energy can be either consumed or transformed, that much is true. However, this phenomenon strikes me as deliberate more than anything. Which leads me to believe that there is a conduit between your gem and some other place."

"Is that even possible?" Vaala asked, frowning. "And assuming – _assuming_, mind you – that you were right, where on Azeroth would that be?"

"It might... not be on Azeroth. There is no cause for immediate concern, though," Kael'thas added quickly when a brief look of panic crossed her features. "The amount of energy lost in this way is so small that I almost didn't notice it myself. And, of course, I could be wrong." The last sentence wasn't true, but he could see that she was unsettled and for some reason he found himself almost regretting that he'd told her.

"When did you have time to find out all this?" Vaala asked after nearly a minute of uncomfortable silence.

Kael'thas smiled a little. "I had to distract myself while I was surrounded by orcs. It would have been disgraceful on my part to panic like a common drudge."

"Did any of them hurt you?"

"No," Kael'thas answered hurriedly, and something about her demeanor told him that if his answer had been any different the orc – or orcs – in question would have been made to pay in kind. "Dokra fairly civil, in fact. The others barely spoke to me."

Vaala stood up and stretched her arms. "I'd have expected nothing less of the Screaming Skulls," she said. "Thank you for the lecture, by the way. It was fairly interesting, and you can tell me more later if you want. For now, I'd rather eat before my stomach crawls out and kicks me. Want anything?"

Kael'thas thought about it. He _was_ hungry – maybe even hungry enough to brave orcish food once more. "If it isn't too much trouble, then yes."

"All right then," Vaala said with a grin, then added, "and next time a simple 'yes' should be enough."

She hurried away before Kael'thas could think of any suitable answer and was back with a wooden tray in each hand barely a few minutes after, one of which held a lump charred meat that had to be another variation of orcish cuisine, while the other was laden with-

"Cinnamon bread rolls, fresh from two days ago," Vaala said proudly. "I figured these would be more to your liking, but I can share some of the meat too if you want."

Kael'thas shook his head in a wordless decline, then picked up one of the rolls, wondering how on Azeroth she'd managed to get something like this. It certainly had the right texture, and a sweet-but-not-quite fragrance that reminded him in a very urgent manner that he hadn't eaten anything in more than a day. He took a bite, then another, then finished the rest of it and half of a second one before he finally remembered manners. "How many did you want me to leave for you?" =

Vaala glanced up briefly. "I'm not a sweets person myself," was the only thing she said before she returned her full attention to her own meal.

They ate in silence after that, then Vaala excused herself and once again left Kael'thas alone with his thoughts – which were, all things considered, slightly more pleasant than before.

**6.**

It was some hours later, though it was hard to tell the time for someone who wasn't used to being at sea. Vaala had found a relatively quiet spot on the upper deck, which allowed both shelter from the wind and an ample view of the continent. They were still passing the Ghostlands, and even from such a distance the sight of them was anything but a delight. The once-lush forests had never quite recovered even after the Scourge had passed. The trees had withered long ago, but still they refused to die. When one was cut new branches would sprout from the trunk, and soon – sometimes within a mere few days – the tree was back to the size it had been. The tangle of branches high overhead made it impossible for the light of the sun to reach down, causing most of the other plant life to either fade or adapt in ways that were both unnatural and chilling to behold. And finally, whatever wildlife had survived the Scourge and the ensuing plague had grown increasingly feral, the predators going so far as to attack newly-rebuilt settlements in large packs once their natural prey had become scarce.

The state of the Ghostlands was yet another testament to the ineptitude of the Council of Silvermoon. While it was true that the city itself and a large portion of the Eversong Woods had been restored to something akin to their former glory, anything south of Elrendar River was in a deplorable state and the blood elf leadership didn't seem in too much of a hurry to do something about it. Of course, by this point nothing short of a complete purging would ensure that the corruption would truly be staved – but then, such decisive action was something that could hardly be expected from a Regent Lord who still refused the crown that was, more or less, his for the taking.

Vaala rolled her eyes. _Politics._ Such an small word to define one of the single most useless products of their so-called civilization. People like Reevan knew how to work their way around diplomatic obstacles and obtain what they wanted, but she would have none of it herself. Hers was a much simpler life, although usually that involved her making whatever choice would end with the least chances of her being killed, or worse. At least, she reasoned, for the moment she was more or less free to choose her own path... and those of her brother and Kael'thas, who for some reason appeared ready to go through with whatever she decided.

Leadership was another thing that Vaala hardly considered herself adept at. Truthfully, she had a rough knowledge of the state of the Eastern Kingdoms, but... what if, somewhere along the way, she would choose wrongly and doom the three of them to a slow and painful death, or worse?

Vaala shook her head sternly. There was no reason to think like that. She was fairly good at surviving on her own, and with these two in tow her chances were marginally higher, if anything. Reevan was a powerful caster, after all, and once he recovered enough Kael'thas, too, would become a force to be reckoned with...

Suddenly, Vaala remembered their earlier conversation. She'd understood much more than she'd let show, and now she took the time to go over the information he'd imparted in greater detail. The pedant had belonged to Lady Vashj once, which meant that Illidan had used it to keep an eye on his most trusted minion and coax her into acting as he desired. To her knowledge, Lady Vashj had been slain and the naga base of operations purged and sealed, but the pedant had found its way to Illidan nonetheless... which meant that it was either important enough to be retrieved or that fate worked in strange ways indeed. That, however, was hardly if importance. Kael'thas's other discovery was far more concerning. The pedant had bound her to Illidan once, and when a demon – or a half-demon, in this case – was slain, there was only one place where their soul could go. If there was indeed a conduit between the jewel and another place, then that place could only be somewhere in the Twisting Nether.

Vaala's thoughts were drawn once more to that one moment from two nights ago when she'd been almost certain that somebody had called her name. It hadn't been her brother, and it couldn't have been anyone else since they were several hundred feet up in the air. She'd been under the effects of a powerful elixir to enhance her magical senses then, and also she'd been tapping into the stone... Was it possible, then, that her old master had beckoned from beyond the grave?

"Ridiculous," Vaala muttered under her breath. For a second she thought to throw the pedant into the sea and be done with it, but then she decided not to. It still had its uses and, since there had been no further repeats of that one incident, it was likely that she'd imagined it after all.


	6. Ambush at sea

**CHAPTER 6**

**1.**

After somehow managing to stay asleep for the remainder of the day, Kael'thas rose from a dreamless slumber as day was rolling into night and the smells of whatever food was being served above began to waft down to the commons. After some searching he found a crude washroom and freshened himself up as best he could, then he returned to his hammock and ate the last cinnamon bread rolls from earlier. There was only one other mercenary around, an orc woman who looked deeply-engrossed in a leather-bound tome she was reading. It took Kael'thas a few moments to recognize her as one of Dokra Felcrusher's warband, though he couldn't remember her name.

The noise had quieted down somewhat over the past hours. Aside from the occasional shout or cheer that erupted every now and then, the only thing that could be heard was the murmur of many conversations going on at once. Kael'thas listened to it for a while, taking small comfort in the fact that it had been more than a day without incident. His disguise, such as it was, and the knowledge that he was no longer among the living – backed by the testimony of those who had succeeded in assaulting his would-be stronghold on Quel'danas and ending him, some of which were probably on the very same ship – would probably ensure that such a thing couldn't happen again. And if, by some twist of fate, some of them did see past everything else and come at him, he had no doubts now that the Dawnstrikes would stand with him to whichever end.

In the meantime, Kael'thas began to wonder if he could push the limits of this new predicament a little. He'd never been in the company of mercenaries before, delegating any and all contact with such types to his ambassadors and spies. But now, curiosity was beginning to stir. What would they be like when they weren't out for blood? Did they still look for an excuse to fight, or were they more akin to regular folk? It had to be the latter, he reasoned. Vaala had taught him that mercenaries fought for gold or glory, and there was neither to be had by starting a brawl here.

Minutes trickled by until finally Kael'thas reached a decision. He stood up and immediately felt the orc woman's eyes on him. He paused, wondering if he should say anything, then decided against it. He'd taken a few steps when suddenly he heard her stir, then say, "Your sword."

Kael'thas half-turned. "Pardon?" he asked, frowning.

"Your sword," the woman said again. "Leave it here."

Kael'thas was about to question why, but then he noticed that every other hammock had a sword, mace or shield beside it. Was it a claim of territory, or did the mercenaries prefer to eat and drink without having to constantly be on alert that someone would stab them in the back?

Something in his expression must have given away his confusion, because the woman laughed heartily. "We're mercenaries, not thieves."

"I know that," Kael'thas said quickly. "I meant no-"

"No, you don't," the woman interrupted flatly. "In fact, for someone who travels with _osh'khazil_, you don't know a lot of things."

Kael'thas froze. His first thought was to deny this outright or, even better, storm out and hope that she wouldn't follow. She didn't seem hostile, though. "I am... new to this business," he tried. "Vaala – I mean, _osh'khazil -_" he must have mispronounced the name, judging by the way she grinned at him "- is my mentor of sorts."

"Is that so." The woman paused awkwardly. "I don't know the ways of your people, but... I assume... you did something great to impress her where all the others failed."

"Others...?" Kael'thas asked, intrigued.

The woman, however, apparently decided that she'd already said too much. "You'll find _osh'khazil_ on the mess deck," she said, cutting off any further discussion on the subject. "Don't forget to leave your sword."

He obliged, turning her words over in his head as he did. So, others had come, asking for guidance – or had it been something more? – and Vaala had turned them away. Dimly, Kael'thas wondered if he held any merit in her eyes other than Reevan's influence. Whatever it was, he reasoned, it had to count for something more than whatever great deeds those others had done in order to gain her favor. He couldn't help but wonder what those had been even as he realized that wondering was probably all that he was ever going to do.

The mess deck was one level above the commons and nearly twice as large. Kael'thas paused at the entrance as he took in the crowd there. There had to be several dozens of them, of all the races that composed the new Horde, although the orcs and Forsaken overtly outnumbered everyone else. It didn't take long for him to spot Reevan, who was sitting alone on an upturned crate with a large mug in one hand. He stood up as Kael'thas approached. "Welcome back, my lord," he said quietly enough so that only the two of them would hear it.

"Please don't call me that," Kael'thas answered in the same tone. "From here on out, I ask that you treat me as you would any other companion." _I don't deserve anything more_, came an unbidden thought, but he didn't voice it.

Reevan gave a reluctant nod. "Drink?" he asked after a moment.

Kael'thas took the mug he was being offered and eyed the contents warily. "What is it?" That question seemed to come up fairly often as of late.

"Ale... or, at least, that's what they told me," Reevan answered with a small shrug. "For the price I paid for it, it certainly isn't as bad as it could be."

Kael'thas didn't feel reassured in the least. Nonetheless, he took a small sip, grimacing at the strong, bitter taste. This was nothing like the finely-aged wines and liquors he was accustomed to. On the other hand, he was thirsty, and this was probably the best that the ship had to offer.

Reevan waved to a Forsaken wearing a tattered suit and asked for another mug for himself. They drank in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts.

"I never had the chance to thank you or your sister properly for everything you did for me," Kael'thas said at length. "Truthfully... I find myself undeserving of such devotion."

"If you are your own judge and jury, then the sentence can only be unjust," Reevan argued. "Instead, you can be thankful that the madness has lifted at last and find a way to atone for your past misdeeds. Vaala and I will stand by you until-"

Whatever else Reevan was going to say was drowned into a loud bout of cheering that came from the other end of the deck, where a fairly large crowd was gathered around a stout wooden table.

"What is happening over there?" Kael'thas asked as the mercenaries parted to allow a disgruntled-looking troll to pass through.

Reevan watched the troll sit dejectedly in one corner and drown his sorrow into a mug twice the size of the one he had. "A kind of game, I believe," he said distractedly. "It is basically about two people trying to overpower one-another using only one arm. My sister enjoys this sort of thing." His tone made it clear that he didn't share Vaala's passion for such a sport.

"How very interesting," Kael'thas muttered. This was certainly different from the pastimes he was familiar with. "Does the victor earn anything?"

"Vaala tells me that a winner can walk away with quite some coin if no other challenges are issued, or-"

"Or you can also win by beating three contenders in a row," came another voice. A second later, Vaala was standing between them with a smug expression and innocently pretending not to notice the way Reevan not-so-subtly rolled his eyes.

Kael'thas, on the other hand, looked genuinely interested. "Is there any more to this?" he asked.

Vaala nodded enthusiastically. "To enter, you have to wager at least the double of what is already in the pot," she explained. "If you lose, you lose the gold, too." She tapped her lips with one finger, thinking. "The pot was four pieces when Buzzard there got thrashed, which means it's eight pieces now," she went on, more to herself than to the others. "Yazdak already-" here, several words were lost in another round of wild cheers "-and Morg, and _that _is sixty-four solid gold pieces at least." Suddenly, she turned on one heel and sprinted away, towards the table. "Watch this!" she called out over her shoulder before she disappeared in the crowd.

Reevan and Kael'thas exchanged a _look, _each waiting for the other to say what was on both their minds. The latter arched an eyebrow. "She would _not._"

Reevan sighed and shook his head with the look of someone who had just been sentenced to the gallows. "Of _course_ she would. Come on."

They drifted closer to the table, then elbowed their way to a place that allowed them a glimpse of the two contenders. Vaala looked perfectly at ease in spite of the fact that her opponent was one of the biggest orcs Kael'thas had ever seen. The two clasped hands, their elbows planted firmly on the table before them. There was a moment of near-complete silence – and then, the match began and all hell broke loose. The on-lookers cheered and jeered with equal enthusiasm. There was a lot of betting going on on the side, too, fairly one-sided if he was to judge. For a moment it looked as though the orc would win easily. There was laughter, which stopped abruptly when Vaala began to push back. The orc strained with all his might, his features contorted in an expression that was part anger and part disbelief. Vaala held his gaze calmly as, inch by inch, she overpowered him with no visible effort on her part.

_Impossible!_ Kael'thas thought. Vaala was certainly strong, but the sheer difference in size between her and her opponent should have decided the match in a heartbeat...

And then, he saw it. There was the faintest shimmer in the air around her, a tell-tale sign that she was using magic to enhance her natural strength. This was risky business. If any of the others had even the smallest affinity for-

Kael'thas's thoughts ground to a halt as the match was over and the cheering reached an all-new high, then died down just as abruptly as the orc jumped to his feet. If the table hadn't been firmly nailed to the floor, as was the custom with any furniture aboard the ship, he would have probably toppled it.

"Not possible!" the orc thundered, his voice deafening in the sudden silence. "I am Yazdak the Rippler! I _never_ lose!"

Vaala rose slowly, her eyes never leaving the orc. "Looks like you just did," she said levelly. "I can offer a rematch, if you want."

The orc appeared even more antagonized by the words. "You! You used some kind of magic trick! I _know-_"

"This isn't good," Reevan whispered. "Get ready to-"

"Yazdak! Control yourself!"

The other voice belonged to Dokra, who moved to stand behind Vaala with her arms crossed.

Yazdak the Rippler clamped his mouth shut and snorted like an angry bull. "This isn't over," he warned. Then, eyes trailed firmly ahead, he stomped off.

"I challenge you, _osh'khazil_," Dokra said loudly. "If you try anything, I will know it. " She withdrew a sizable pouch from her belt and set it on the table. A murmur went through the crowd. There very few willing or able to double that amount.

"Your challenge is accepted," Vaala said, her demeanor changing from defiance to something akin to gratitude.

They sat down and clasped hands. Then, Vaala looked towards Kael'thas and winked.

This match went on for quite some time, the two women evenly matched and both hellbent on winning. At first it looked like Dokra was gaining the upper hand, but then Vaala recovered and slowly but surely pushed her way to victory to the hearty cheers of the crowd.

Two victories. That left one more challenge. Vaala waited calmly as some of those around her began to fumble in their pockets, counting how many gold pieces they had to wager. Some were counting out loud, stuttering, then starting over.

"Do you have any gold?" Kael'thas asked suddenly.

Reevan opened his mouth, looked ready to argue for a moment, then sighed and fumbled at his belt. Another pouch, visibly larger than the one Dokra had thrown in, passed from one hand to another, then Kael'thas made his way to the table with a curious sort of elation. As he sat down, he noticed that the aura he'd sensed before was back and slightly stronger... which would work perfectly for what he had in mind. He smiled a little as he said, "I challenge you."

**2.**

Well, this was certainly turning out to be an interesting night, Vaala thought as Kael'thas Sunstrider, of all people, issued his challenge in that ridiculously uptight manner that was so very typical of him. She tilted her head to one side and flashed him a cocky grin. "All right, pretty boy," she said in a sing-song voice, almost regretting that she couldn't use a more proper insult. "Let's play."

Kael'thas didn't rise to the bait, which was slightly disappointing. It took a few moments after the match began for her to realize why. His arm simply wouldn't _budge_.

Vaala frowned and drew a little more energy from her gem, careful to keep it low enough that nobody else would notice. She'd used this trick with Yazdak the Rippler and won, as she knew she would. This time, she gained an inch or two with a considerable effort before another deadlock ensued. How on Azeroth was he managing to-

_Wait._

With a start, Vaala realized that the power was leaving her almost as soon as it hit her system. That bastard was drawing her magic and using it against her!

Her lips drew in a firm line. She would make him _pay_.

Abruptly, Vaala cut off the flow of magic altogether. Across the table, Kael'thas's eyes widened slightly, but before he could react she pushed down hard and had the unbridled satisfaction of hearing a distinct _crunch!_ as his hand hit the table hard and seeing him wince.

"You cheated," Kael'thas whispered, using the more elaborate version of Thalassian that was the appanage of the high court to make sure that only she would understand.

Vaala began retrieving the gold that was now hers by right. "We both did," she answered with a shrug. After a moment, grudgingly, she added, "Nicely done." With that she stood up and went to get herself another drink. There were at least one hundred gold pieces in the pot she'd earned, which wasn't bad for a quarter-hour of elbow grease.

Reevan and Kael'thas had retreated to a relatively quiet corner of the deck when she found them again. Their expressions were almost comical. This night was _absolutely_ going to be interesting.

"You are insane," Reevan said flatly as she raised her freshly-topped mug in a mock toast, then drank deeply.

"Looks like it's spreading then," Vaala answered with a nod towards Kael'thas, who was still rubbing the back of his hand. "That took some guts, by the way," she said to him. "I was almost impressed."

"It was the least I could to repay you for all the gold you spent on me," Kael'thas said, pointedly ignoring the would-be compliment.

"Remember that half that gold is mine," Reevan interjected loudly.

Vaala shrugged. "I won it fair and square, brother. You can always challenge me if you want some of it back, but I really wouldn't do that if I were you. We've already drawn enough attention for one night."

"You're the one to talk about drawing attention..." Reevan muttered, shaking his head. "You beat an orc twice your size, a mercenary captain and-" he hesitated a little "-one of your own party, and I'd say you also made at least one enemy tonight. That orc looked more than eager to repay you in kind."

"Oh, Yazdak wasn't pissed because I beat him, but because it happened right in front of Dokra," Vaala answered dismissively, even though her brother was probably right. "He's been courting her for nearly a month now and he's too thick to realize that she isn't interested in the least. If it comes down to it, I can take him easily. I'm sure Brogan will be more than eager to help, too."

"He courts her, too?" Kael'thas asked, sounding genuinely interested.

Vaala paused. "Not openly, no," she said vaguely, and she ended it at that.

There was more to the story, however. Dokra was the widow of Thragan Felcrusher, Brogan's older brother, who had fallen in the battle for Ashenvale years before. Thragan's party had wandered too close to a Sentinel outpost and been discovered and surrounded before they could retreat. Thragan had single-handedly taken down more than a dozen night elves before eventually succumbing to his wounds. Brogan, who at the time was serving as a grunt, had been the only one to survive the attack. He'd been left for dead by the Sentinels, but he'd somehow managed to drag himself back to the Warsong lumber mill. To this day, he was still haunted by guilt.

"We have two more days until we reach Tirisfal Glades," Reevan said at length. "In the meantime, I would appreciate it if you refrained from a repeat performance of tonight."

Vaala sulked a little but, again, Reevan was right. "Fair call," she said. Then, to spite him more than anything, she added, "The rest of this trip is going to be such a bore, though."

"If only that were the case," Reevan answered ominously.

**3.**

The following day and night were fairly uneventful, aside from a brawl between two trolls and a Forsaken that ended with the former pair being dropped ashore without any further discussion. On the following morning, however, the wind died down completely. The massive sails hung uselessly from their masts and, given the sheer size of the ship, any other means of propulsion were out of the question. The anchor was lowered while the captain and the crew debated what to do.

Later that day, Harrah and another shaman had been called upon to try and coax the elements into providing a much-needed boost. The two had asked, pleaded and eventually threatened the spirits of air and water, then finally proclaimed that the corruption that drifted from the Plaguelands was so overwhelming there would be no hope for any aid. A sudden storm had come and gone, either coincidence or in retaliation, doing no damage other than rocking the ship and making more than a handful of people huddle up miserably in whatever corner looked marginally more stable than the rest of the ship and retch to their hearts' content. Several more mercenaries asked to be taken to the mainland so they could continue their journey on foot.

The fourth day was dawning with no signs that the wind would pick up again. Vaala was pacing the upper deck, pausing occasionally to glare at the sails in a useless display of her frustration. She had no doubts that whatever pursuit Ilastar would be sending had left Quel'danas by now. If they came by sea, then they were bound to run into the same problem as the Forsaken ship. However, if they came by land or air, then they already had more than a day to close the distance between them and their quarry, and this ship was hardly a place fit for such a confrontation. While mercenaries were loosely bound by a sketchy code of honor, some wouldn't hesitate to turn against others if there were no bonds between them and there was profit to be made. Even if Dokra and the others stood with them, they would still be outnumbered and with no place to flee.

The disc of the sun rose suddenly over the warped landscape of the Plaguelands, making Vaala's eyes sting. She cursed and turned around, letting her gaze drift towards the open sea. The waves were still, with no signs that a storm had stirred them not a day before. The sky, too, was clear and a deep shade of azure. A few large birds were flying low somewhere in the distance in an oddly tight formation.

Vaala frowned and looked closer, employing her other sight for better clarity. A moment later, she cursed again. They weren't birds but bat riders, and at the head of the formation she spotted a blur of red and orange that could only be a dragonhawk. Ilastar was a crafty man indeed; he must have realized that Reevan and the others had a considerable head start and sent word to the Undercity rather than waste more time with setting up a search party in Quel'danas. Damn that man.

_Focus_, Vaala reminded herself as she felt the first tendrils of panic begin to grip her. The riders were still far away, which gave them all time to prepare and execute a flawless exit strategy. Rowing to the mainland was out of the question, since that would make them a perfect target to be picked off from above. That left flying as their only other option, although a netherdrake was just about as discreet as an enraged kodo in a ceramics market. If they moved quickly, though, they could be well on their way before the bat riders ever had a chance to catch up.

Her decision made, Vaala went below deck, careful not to let any urgency show in her movements. She found Reevan in the commons and appraised him of the situation in a few quick phrases. To his credit, Reevan took the news stoically and didn't make a fuss. He then left in search of Kael'thas while Vaala went to prepare their mount.

Not five minutes later, Vaala paced around the drake wondering what was taking the other two so long. The rest of her plan had already revealed itself; there was a large portion of the hull that could be raised or lowered like a bridge or, in this case, used as a ramp for their mount to take wing. The ropes that held it in place were study and nearly as thick as her arm, but the mechanism that operated them was fairly simple. Once they were aloft, they could head inland and fly low or land if the pursuers somehow managed to stay on their trail long enough to be a nuisance. Whether it was by ground or air, they would be able to get away.

Finally, Vaala heard the distinct sound of rushing footsteps, then Reevan and Kael'thas appeared, with Dokra trailing one step behind them. Vaala stopped her pacing and _tsk_-ed at the unnecessary complication. There was no time to explain the situation better than whatever the other two had blurted out – and, if Dokra planned to bring the Screaming Skulls into this, things could get really messy really fast.

Fortunately, Dokra didn't have any of that in mind. "Your brother says that you're leaving," she said curtly. "I came to wish you good luck."

Despite the urgency of the situation, Vaala smiled with considerable relief. She knew that she could ask Dokra to help in stalling their pursuit or create a sort of diversion, but she was already indebted to her beyond measure and she didn't intend to let that debt grow any more if she could help it. "Good fortune to you too, sister," she answered solemnly. "Until we meet again."

Dokra nodded, then turned and left without another word. That was another thing that Vaala had come to like about her; she didn't mince words and never dragged things out any longer than they should have been. A traditional sin'dorei farewell would have lasted anything between fifteen minutes and several hours, depending on who was leaving and for how long. Ridiculous, really.

"All right, boys," Vaala said once Dokra had gone. "When I tell you to, I want you to push that lever and lower that part of the hull." She climbed in the saddle and patted the drake on its scaly neck as it began to rise. Obediently, the beast went back into a crouch.

"Won't the ship take on water if we do this?" came a startled question which could have been either of the other two.

Vaala didn't even bother try and figure out which one it had been. "I don't know, and at the moment I really don't care." For a moment she thought about the Screaming Skulls and how she was putting their lives at risk, then she shrugged off the budding concern. They were more than able to take care of themselves. She took a deep breath. "Do it."

It took several tries before the lever finally gave way, setting in motion whatever machinery it was attached to with a series of loud clanging noises. The hull rocked once, then a large section of it began to swing down on its unseen hinges, letting in sunlight and a waft of fresh, salty air. The drake raised its head, turning it left and right and sniffing with obvious anticipation.

A few moments later, several voices rose in cries of alarm that drifted from the deck above. Vaala rolled her eyes. The bridge was barely a third of its way down, moving with infuriating slowness. "Get over here!" she yelled.

"Surely you don't intend to ram it?" Kael'thas shouted back as he climbed into the saddle beside her, then assisted Reevan in doing the same.

"That won't do," Vaala answered flatly. "Now shut up and let me concentrate." Some of the crew were likely already on their way down to investigate while the bridge was suddenly opening on its own. Time was running out. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, clearing her mind and tapping into the gem lightly. The energy began to flow, down her left arm and into her open hand, gathering into a small sphere of fire. She hadn't done this in quite some time, but if memory served there was a slight delay between the point where the energy would become unstable and the moment it would detonate. She held her breath, waiting. Not yet... not yet... _now._

The fireball hit one of the two ropes that held the bridge and burned through it in a heartbeat. Vaala was already preparing a second cast, watching the sphere pulsate and grow. Not yet... not yet...

"You there! Stop!"

The fireball missed, splintering against the bridge in a small nova of harmless sparks. Vaala cursed loudly. Of all the times-

There was a sudden surge of power behind her, then the one rope that remained burst into flames and broke. Free of its hold, the bridge dropped like a stone, making the entire ship lean to one side with its momentum. The drake didn't need any coaxing. It raised on its hind legs, rushed through the opening, jumped as its taloned feet caught the edge, opened its wings with a loud snap and finally soared into the open sky with a joyous cry.

This left only one other problem: with the bat riders closing in from the other side, they would have to circle around and pass over the ship to make for the continent. There were eight beasts, still too far for Vaala to distinguish anything about the riders, but she didn't intend to stick around long enough to find out more. "Hang on," she warned before she made the drake bank and make a steep turn.

As they passed the hole in the hull, Vaala saw several of the crew there, looking their way and gesturing furiously. She smirked a little. The ship wouldn't set sail until the damage could be repaired, which ruled out any concern for retaliation once they were a safe distance away. That only left the flying pursuit. She knew that bats were the mount of choice for Deathstalkers and others of their ilk, since they could see regardless of light or absence thereof. The main strength of the Deathstalkers didn't lie in open combat, but in ambush and trickery. They would be all that useless up here.

Vaala was about to point out that fact when an arrow sailed past, far enough to be harmless but still too close for comfort. She turned around and squinted. Sure enough, the riders at the front were only armed with daggers and swords, but farther at the back, one of the raiders was standing up in her saddle and already nocking another arrow. The enormous bow and long, billowing cloak were both unmistakable giveaways. She was a Dark Ranger, a former high elf archer trained by the Banshee Queen herself. The dragonhawk rider was at her side, shouting something that Vaala couldn't hear. She made the drake dip once again and fly close to the water in a haphazard pattern as two more arrows sailed past. A moment later, she saw another Dark Ranger on the opposite side of the formation.

"Damn," Vaala cursed under her breath. Then, louder, "If we fly like this, we won't be able to outrun them for a while. Try to take out their mounts!" When she looked over her shoulder again, there were seven riders left instead of eight. She had to commend Reevan and Kael'thas for managing even that. Content with that, she turned her attention back to keeping them on their path.

"We should fly higher," she heard Reevan say suddenly. "Spells aren't affected by gravity, but their arrows should-" The sentence was cut off with a gasp.

"We'd give them the perfect target when we rise," Vaala answered, turning sideways to glare...

...and just in time to see him slip out of the saddle and tumble towards the still water below.

The next few seconds unfolded at a sluggish speed, as though time itself had come to a grinding halt and the world was holding its collective breath. Vaala pulled on the reins with all her strength, making the drake stop awkwardly and shriek in protest. Kael'thas shouted something that she didn't hear. _No_, she thought desperately. _No, no, __**no!**_

Reevan's body hit the water a second before hers did. She resurfaced, took a deep breath, then dove, eyes searching frantically for any sign of him. The water was murky, but her second sight picked up on a trail and she swam towards it. She reached him and grabbed his arm, then pulled them both towards the surface. Her armor soaked and slowing her down. Soon, her lungs felt like they would burst with the effort, but she didn't care. He was alive. He _had_ to be alive.

They surfaced, coughing and sputtering, and Vaala had to admit that sea air had never tasted that good before. "You... you..." It was hard to find anything that would be insulting and endearing at the same time, so she settled for, "_You!_ Don't you ever, _ever_-" she paused to take a deep breath "-scare me like that, understand?"

"I didn't... have much of a... choice, did I?"

Vaala smiled, relieved. He was talking, which meant he was still conscious, at least. "Where were you hit?"

"S-shoulder," Reevan answered weakly. "Great... great plan, by the way. Now... instead of... of being shot down... we drown."

"Shut up." Vaala glanced towards the sky, which was still that impossible nuance of blue. With a start, she realized that there wasn't anything more they could do other than keep afloat and hope that they wouldn't be killed outright. Their pursuers were closing in and the drake still hung in the air where she'd left it, beating its wings furiously. What was Kael'thas doing? Why didn't he run away?

Then, slowly, the drake began to rise.

**4.**

It was a crazy plan, but it was also the only plan that Kael'thas could think of. Abandoning the Dawnstrikes to their fate was a notion he didn't even want to consider. He owed his life to them in more ways than one, and if he was killed defending them, then so be it.

First, he raised a shield around him an instant before two arrows shattered against it. The shield hummed like a plucked string, but held nonetheless. Next, he stood up, knowing that he presented an easier target that way and not caring in the least. He spread his arms wide, gathering his magic in either hand in preparation for a cast such as he'd never attempted since his resurrection. The bat riders were fairly close now, so close that he could see the murderous intent in their still, lifeless eyes.

_Perfect._

The power surged at his command, building up to the point where it seeped into the air around it, making the air crackle and swirl with small arcane torrents. The effort would cost him nearly all of his strength, leaving him all but helpless once more, but it was a small price to pay for the chance of them living to see another day. He waited until the first rider was close enough that he could see his crooked grin, then finally, with a sharp intake of breath, he released the spell.

Twin ribbons of flame arched from each hand. They hit the first rider square in the chest, incinerating both him and his mount within seconds, then split off to strike those immediately behind him and spread to the others with deadly precision. The sky itself was ablaze. There was no place to escape the inferno, but one of the riders tried it still. Kael'thas caught the movement and pooled his last reserves into a fireball which struck true and finished him off. His vision blackened for several dangerous moments and he collapsed back in the saddle, letting the shield drop before it would consume more than just whatever magic still sustained it. When he recovered enough to see clearly once more, there was no sign that their pursuers had ever been there other than the bits of charred flesh and blackened bone and armor that littered the water below.

With that settled, Kael'thas made the drake descend once again. It didn't take long for him to spot Vaala and Reevan and he directed his mount towards them, relieved that his spell hadn't reached them as well. With some difficulty he managed to pull Reevan up. Vaala pointedly ignored his outstretched hand and, once she was in the saddle, her attention immediately turned to her brother.

"Where do we go from here?" Kael'thas asked after it became clear that she didn't intend to give him any indications.

Vaala didn't look up. "Fly east," she answered, her voice curiously void of any emotion.

Kael'thas did as he was told, squinting against the sunlight. The drake picked up the pace, delighted to fly into the open sky after having been confined in the pens for so long. Soon they passed over a narrow beach, then a tangle of tall grass and other vegetation that started off lush and green before suddenly giving way to a thick forest that bore the tell-tale signs of the plague. As they flew deeper into the continent, the corruption became all the more apparent. The foliage was an odd shade of brown, with patches of red and gray every here and there. The branches were still and lifeless, with no sounds coming from underneath.

With the more pressing threat of pursuit gone for now, Kael'thas began to wonder what was happening behind him. Neither sibling had addressed him since they'd taken wing once more. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed that the situation was worse than he'd expected. Reevan was deathly pale and his chest rose and fell in short, ragged breaths. Vaala was cradling him in her arms with a lost expression that hardened as soon as her eyes meet Kael'thas's.

"How is he?" Kael'thas asked, knowing with sickening certainty that she had every right to blame him for this outcome and desperately wanting to do something - anything - to make amends.

"I've managed to stop the bleeding, but the arrow is still poisoning him and I don't know how to remove it without hurting him more. I... I don't know what to do." Her voice broke a little with those last few words and she wiped at her eyes hurriedly.

Kael'thas looked away, feeling more useless than he'd ever been in his entire life. "I fear I know nothing about poisons. Are there any settlements nearby where we can find help?"

This seemed to shake Vaala out of her stupor. "If we fly south, we might find a Forsaken encampment along the way, but..." She trailed off, thinking. "There is... there _was_ a chapel of the Argent Dawn on the other side of the Plaguelands that I visited once. If we don't stop at all, we should be able to reach it in a day or so... if it's still there," she finished quietly.

"And if it is not?"

Nearly a minute passed before Vaala spoke again. "It will be there," she answered with fierce determination. "It has to be."

**5.**

Seradane felt like he'd been swimming nearly in place for an eternity and a day when he finally reached water that was shallow enough for him to stand. He waddled through the rest of it awkwardly, then finally let himself collapse on the beach with a long string of curses that would have put any drunken brawler to shame, pausing only to breathe deeply every now and then. For a while he was content to simply lay there, staring at the sky and finding new and creative ways to vent his anger at the world. If he never saw the Great Sea again, it would be _entirely_ too soon.

Then, his mind once again turned to practical matters. All things considered, Seradane had to admit that was lucky to be alive when his dragonhawk - or what was left of it, anyway - was at the bottom of the ocean, along with the rest of his party. The only thing that had saved him from sharing their fate had been the fact that being so far from their quarry had given him enough time to leap out of the saddle an instant before his mount was engulfed by flames so strong that their heat alone had left him dazed for a few precious moments. He'd recovered just in time to twist in the air and hit the water in a way that didn't cause any major damage, although he was fairly certain that at least one of his ribs wasn't where it had been the morning before. He'd watched his intended captives fly away, then set to the laborious task of crossing the seemingly short distance to the continent. In hindsight, the distance had been anything but short. The recollection brought with it another elaborate curse.

Well, at least he was on dry land - alone and with nothing but his sword and the clothes on his back, said another part of his mind - and he could work on finding his way back to the nearest settlement and reach the Undercity from there. He would then have to report back to Ilastar, send word to his contacts in every camp, village and city in the upper part of the Eastern Kingdoms, then gather another party and set off in pursuit once more. The thought alone made him groan and thump his fist in the sand. Ilastar wasn't paying him enough for this. In fact...

In fact, Seradane realized suddenly, Ilastar probably thought him dead along with the others. Andurien, who insisted that he stay behind in Undercity in case the fugitives somehow managed to find a faster way to get there, would learn what had happened when the Darkening reached Tirisfal Glades with the news of what had happened at sea and report back to Ilastar with the news. Being in service to the Grand Magister had already gotten Seradane ridiculously close to being killed not once, but twice if he counted the fact that the Banshee Queen had seemed far less eager to honor Ilastar's request than he'd anticipated and the only thing keeping her from ordering him punished for such insolence had been Andurien's reassurance that this service to the blood elves would earn her more troops to send to Northrend. That wasn't true, of course, and when Sylvanas figured out that she'd been tricked, she would be anything but pleased.

All in all, Seradane realized that maybe it was high time for a career change. As far as he cared, Ilastar could go to hell with all his scheming and games. There were new places to go, new opportunities to explore, and certainly more gold to be made. He could go anywhere. He was a free man. Well – the same part of his mind cut in petulantly – he was a soaked, starving, hopelessly lost man in a place where nine out of ten things would try to kill him, but he was still free to go wherever he pleased, and it was good.

With some effort, Seradane stood up, wobbling a little, picked a random direction and stalked off at a brisk pace, whistling a cheerful tune as he went. The Plaguelands weren't nearly as deserted as one might have expected upon hearing the name – quite the opposite, in fact. It wasn't long before his senses picked up a faint smell of burning wood and roasting meat. He followed it to a small clearing, where a pair of trolls were roasting a large chunk of meat over an open fire.

"Who joo be, mon?" one of the trolls asked lazily, shifting a little so that Seradane could see the giant cleaver that rested at his belt.

Seradane hesitated a little. Trolls weren't very high up his list of preferred company, but at the moment anything was better than wandering the Plaguelands alone. He did a sweeping bow, careful to keep watching both trolls out of the corner of his eye, then straightened up and offered his most disarming smile. "My name is Seradane Dustweaver," he said, sitting down with feigned casualness even as he prepared to tense and leap out of the way if things got rough, "and allow me tell you why you should be _very _glad that you met me."


	7. Light's Hope

**CHAPTER 7**

**1.**

In the end, it took them the rest of the day and nearly all night to find Light's Hope Chapel, nestled as it was against a steep mountain range and all but hidden by the thick forest that surrounded it on all other sides. The outpost had grown considerably since Vaala had been there, changing from a place of prayer and meditation to a full-blown military encampment. Aside from the chapel itself, a number of trees had been cleared to make room for several rows of tents, and a crypt had been built at the back to offer a fitting resting place for those who had fallen in battle with the Scourge. Where once had been only humans of the former Order of the Silver Hand, now were people of all races, all clad in plate armor of similar design and wearing the silver and black tabards of the Argent Dawn.

In spite of the late hour, their arrival caused quite a commotion. True to their purpose, the paladins immediately offered their assistance in healing Reevan's injuries and provided Vaala and Kael'thas with a tent and fresh food and water while they waited. At first, Vaala insisted that she wouldn't leave her brother's side. It wasn't until one of the paladins pointed out that her assistance might be needed later on that she finally agreed to let herself be lead away, with Kael'thas trailing one step behind her and dreading the moment they would finally be alone. She hadn't spoken to him at all since they'd landed and barely acknowledged his presence otherwise, introducing him as a former conscript of the Shattered Sun Offensive when she was asked. In any other circumstances, Kael'thas would have probably laughed at the irony.

Their tent was fairly large, but still it felt too small for the both of them. Vaala sat down without a word and closed her eyes, hugging her knees like a child. She looked worse than Kael'thas had ever seen her, which was little wonder considering she hadn't slept in more than a day and barely touched any food at all. For a moment he felt compelled to reach out to her and offer whatever comfort he could, then he pushed that thought away with the realization that in her current state she would probably lash out at him again.

With a start, he found himself longing for even that. Anything was better than the heavy silence that hung between them like a shroud and the sudden dread that after this night, regardless of the outcome, things would never be the same again and it would be entirely his fault. If he'd refused the aid and made away to brave the trials and tribulations of his new life alone, none of this would have ever happened. It seemed as though wherever he was, no matter what he did, his destiny would be to always bring nothing but sorrow and death to those around him, and he was a fool for ever thinking otherwise. He dwelled on that, reliving again the few memories that had managed to find their way through whatever it was that was keeping most of his recent past from him and feeling horror and dread with each new reminiscence of the things he'd done. Yes... it was probably best to leave now, before he could cause any more harm. There weren't many places he could go, but hopefully once he crossed the Plaguelands and reached the more welcoming territories to the south, he could maybe learn how to survive on his own out in the wilderness.

With that resolve made, Kael'thas stood up. He fervently hoped that there would be no pursuit this time. After all, who would care enough to-

"Get back here."

Kael'thas froze, wondering if he'd imagined the whispered command, but when he turned he saw that Vaala was glaring at him in a way that made it clear she wouldn't stand for him doing anything else. He hesitated, caught between his earlier determination and a flicker of hope so faint he was almost afraid to acknowledge it. "Forgive me," he said softly. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't sleeping," Vaala answered with a tired shrug. She paused, rubbing her temples, then running both hands through her hair. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I was... going to see if your drake is properly cared for," Kael'thas answered, hesitating only briefly. The excuse had come naturally, and he felt slightly ashamed at that.

"You're a terrible liar," Vaala said flatly. "Whatever you were going to do, though, I can't say I really blame you. I... haven't been fair to you, have I." Her voice softened a little. "I'm sorry."

For several moments, Kael'thas was speechless. _She _was apologizing to _him_? "No," he managed, startled at this sudden turn of the conversation. "It is I who should be apologizing to you. Had I not been-"

"-what?" Vaala interrupted with a hint of irritation. "Had you not been alive to cause all this? Well, save yourself the guilt trip, because here you are. And before you say that you don't deserve our loyalty, you should remember that my brother and I both owe our freedom and our lives to you after what you did yesterday."

"You put yourselves at risk to defend me," Kael'thas argued, although inwardly he felt a little relieved at her words. "It was only just that I did the same in return."

Vaala gave him a curious look. "To be honest, I _was _expecting you to run away."

"It would seem that you do not know me at all... which only makes sense, given the circumstances of our encounter and the days since," Kael'thas answered with the ghost of a smile.

"You're right about that," Vaala said, shifting her position and leaning towards him slightly. "Enlighten me, then. What's the _real_ Kael'thas Sunstrider like? I never had the chance to know you before-" she fumbled for the right words, then waved a hand vaguely when she couldn't find any "-so I won't judge."

The question was simple enough, but to his surprise, Kael'thas found that he didn't know how to begin. "Well, I... I assume we never met... _before_." He let his inflexion on that one word convey exactly what he meant. "I was-"

Vaala held up one finger. "Actually, we _did _meet once, on the day that my brother became a magister of the Kirin Tor. Not that I'd expect you to remember it, since all I did was curtsy and say what an honor it was to be in your presence, etcetera."

This was unexpected. "You... didn't swoon, did you?" Kael'thas asked lamely, although that wasn't the most reliable way of remembering. Women did tend to swoon a lot in his presence back in the day. It was a perfectly 'socially-acceptable' bid for his attention, and also the one that he'd been the most annoyed with.

"My mother did," Vaala answered with a grimace. "Just for the 'proper' amount of time, too. She was very proud of herself after."

This, at least, sounded vaguely familiar to Kael'thas. The female magisters and their families tended to carry themselves with slightly more dignity than that, but now that she mentioned it, he did vaguely remember one such incident in particular, during a ceremony where several new magisters had been welcomed in the order that he'd been asked to attend as a senior member of the Kirin Tor. "What were you wearing on that day?" he asked as the memory begin to stir at last.

Vaala rubbed one temple with a 'does it really matter?' sort of look. "One of my mother's dresses, I think... Black silk and lace, with silver embroidery and-"

"-and bell sleeves. Yes... I remember you now." A pause, then, "You were the only one who looked me in the eye. I meant to speak with you after that, but by the time I returned you had already gone."

"I snuck out before my mother could introduce me to any potential suitors," Vaala said with a crooked grin. "Her one dream was to marry me off to a noble and there were plenty of those around. In fact, one of them came calling not a week after... although I assume you already know how well _that _turned out. Did you find anything else of interest in that journal, by the way?"

The sudden change of subject caught Kael'thas completely off-guard. "I apologize," he said quickly. "I should have never-"

"I don't mind," Vaala interrupted. "It's all in the past now, unless the ghost of my mother came back to decry how she would never un-live to see the family name carried on. Of course... if she knew that I'm sitting in a tent with the Prince of Quel'thalas, she would probably die from happiness all over again." She spoke the words lightly, but her voice was hollow and for a moment he saw something akin to regret flicker in her eyes.

"_Former_ prince," Kael'thas corrected wearily. "I have long since cast away the privilege of using that title... along with everything it entitled me to." The old pain came again. How could it have come to this, when all he'd ever done was put his life in the service of his people and redeem them no matter the cost? Or perhaps that _had _been his mistake all along. Was it possible that the ends didn't always justify the means? Knowing everything that had lead up to his desperate last stand at the Magisters' Terrace would have been better than trying to piece everything together from the sharded memories that he could grasp, but whether it was for weakness or a deeper instinct of self-preservation, he was terrified at the thought of searching deeper into his mind.

"That's also in the past," Vaala said when he didn't add anything else. "Unless you want to see the world crash and burn all over again, you should let it go and think about where you want to go from here."

Kael'thas paused, realizing that he had never thought too far beyond the most immediate events. "I... I really do not know."

"It will come to you," Vaala said softly. "A dear friend once told me to take things as they come. I never realized how right he was until the Black Temple fell. I thought I had nowhere to go from there... and then, life found a way to prove me wrong. Somehow, it always does. One thing at a time. One day at a time." The memory of whoever it had been made her smile, not her usual smirk that meant things were about to go either very right or very wrong, but a warm, genuine smile that for a second made her look much younger than she was.

Kael'thas had to admit that words made sense. Life did go on, regardless of any actions or expectations. That knowledge, however, was hardly as comforting as she made it out to be. "Does that mean that we are simply pawns in the grander scheme of things?" he asked bitterly. "Does free will mean anything at all? Neither of us chose to be here, and certainly not-"

"Ah, but that's the beauty of it," Vaala said patiently. "Things happen whether we want them to or not, but how we react to them makes all the difference. We fool ourselves into thinking that we did what we had to do... when really, all we ever do is what we _want_ to do. There is always a choice, even though most times we choose whatever make the most sense. I could have simply refused to assist you and gone on my merry way. That would have certainly saved me a great deal of trouble, but in doing that, I would have condemned the two of you to a fate worse than death. I didn't want to have to live with that for the rest of my days."

Kael'thas considered this. "Things are not always that simple, though. You chose for yourself. I sought to make the right choices for my people... and that is where I failed. I never realized the true horror of the path I had taken until it was already too late, and then..." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I never meant for any of this to happen, but that does not make me any less responsible for what I did. The more I think about it... the more I realize that things should have ended when they did."

**2. **

This conversation was going in circles, much to Vaala's chagrin. While listening to Kael'thas lament his past mistakes did provide a reliable distraction from the brooding concerns that had been plaguing her for most of their journey here, it was high time to make him see that the situation wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been and that dwelling too much on things that couldn't be changed any more than the world could be turned upside-down wasn't helping anyone. This put her in an awkward position. Not a day before, she would have sworn to the Nether and beyond that she couldn't care less how Kael'thas felt and was more than content to leave him be as long as he didn't go berserk and incinerate anyone. However, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that was no longer true. At best, a troubled companion was a liability. At worst, if she lost Kael'thas, she would have to go out and find him or Reevan would never let her hear the end of it.

The thought of her brother made her feel a sudden pang of concern. The paladins had assured her they would do everything in their power, although they cautioned the path to that would be long and arduous and there were no guarantees that they could forestall any permanent damage. Sylvanas and her Dark Rangers had more than just poisons in their arsenal, they'd said; their arrows were enchanted with spells that made flesh and muscle decay to the point where not even the Light-

_No._ There would be time to think about it later, once she knew exactly how bad things were. For now, Vaala decided to focus her attention solely on the task at hand... and immediately realized that she had no idea what to do from here. Kael'thas had been silent nearly a minute now, lost in whatever regrets still haunted him if his pained expression was anything to go by, and there was nothing she could do to ease that burden. He needed... a distraction. Something. Anything.

There were only two choices that Vaala could think of at the moment, and both were equally unpleasant. "You think yourself unworthy of anything but contempt, don't you," she began, careful to keep her voice purposefully soothing.

Kael'thas glanced at her for a second, then looked away. "What would you know-"

"I _know_ you do. What you fail to see is that your actions - _your_ actions, mark my words - made an enormous difference even before you lead the first of our people through the Dark Portal. You were mislead, first by Illidan, then by Kil'jaeden. Somewhere along the way, you lost yourself... and then, you found yourself again. You've been given another chance, and if you're still keen on wasting it by wallowing in self-pity, then I will _personally_ show you that there are worse things to dwell on than whatever you did in the past."

"Why do you care?" Kael'thas shot back when Vaala paused to catch her breath and marvel at how she'd let herself get carried away. "Last I recall, the only reason you ever agreed to any of this was because your brother demanded it! If it were up to you, would you not rather see me dead at your feet?"

"I would _not_. And before you ask why, you remind me of myself. When I-" Vaala trailed off abruptly, remembering not for the first time how much she loathed talking about her past. But then, she reasoned, Kael'thas already knew about this, so the harm was already done. "When Athun died, I blamed myself for it. For the longest time, I thought that if I'd talked him out of it, or at the very least gone with him against my mother's wishes, he needn't have died fighting the Amani. I blamed my family, too, and left with no thoughts of ever coming back. The next time I saw my home was well after the Scourge had swept through Quel'thalas." She had to pause at this, feeling the old memory begin to claw at her soul with renewed strength. "They were all dead... and had I stayed, I would have probably ended up the same. I was lucky to have left when I did, just as you were lucky my brother and I found you first. _Everything_ happens for a reason, but to find it, one must look forward... not back."

Kael'thas sighed deeply. "Your words make sense, as always... And still, when I look to the future, I see nothing."

"You're just as clueless as I ever was," Vaala muttered under her breath. Then, slightly louder, she continued, "That's because you try to look too far ahead. We have a full day's rest ahead of us, a warm meal after, and last but not least the certainty that we'll be alive to enjoy both."

"And what about the day after that?" Kael'thas asked stubbornly. "How long can we stay before we wear out our welcome? Where do we go from here? For that matter, how are we ever to-"

Vaala rolled her eyes with a hiss. "Good grief, do you _want_ to feel miserable?" she growled, feeling her patience run dangerously thin. "Because if you do, I might as well give you something you should _really_ feel awful about."

This seemed to finally get to Kael'thas, because he stopped his ranting and looked away, ashamed. "Forgive me," he said faintly. "I am truly grateful for what you are trying to do... but I fear that it is not enough. I never asked for any of this, and I... I wish I knew what I am meant to do."

Of course, Vaala thought with a tired shake of her head. He had to be frightened and confused above all else, as he had every right to be. After all, who wouldn't feel that way after suddenly finding themselves brought back by whatever power from beyond the grave? It would take weeks, perhaps months before he could come to terms with his new predicament, and that would amount to nothing but wasted time when-

Suddenly, another idea came. Kael'thas was far more pleasant to have around when he had other things to occupy his thoughts. "You might as well learn how to carry your own weight while we're here," she said cautiously, and to her unbridled relief she saw his eyebrows raise in a minute display of interest. "I see you carry a sword. Do you know how to use it?"

"I trained with the finest swordsmen in Quel'thalas," Kael'thas answered, his voice tinged with hurt pride. All things considered, such emotion was far better than what he'd shown before.

"I didn't ask who you trained with, but what you can actually do," Vaala pressed, emboldened by his reaction. "Tomorrow, I want you to show me everything you know. Then, if you're not _too_ bad at this, we'll see if we can make some extra coin by helping out the Argent Dawn. They're always looking for new conscripts, and I assume you're just as eager to take down some Scourge as I am." Truth be told, she wasn't, but there was nothing like leading by personal example.

"I need no coin to fight the Scourge," Kael'thas said fiercely.

Vaala chuckled at this, amused by more than just his words. "I'm sure the paladins will appreciate the sentiment. Most of them think the same."

**3.**

Kael'thas didn't even remember going to sleep, but it must have happened since it had been night before, whereas now a few rays of sunlight were seeping in through the gap between the tent flaps. He stood up gingerly and looked around, but saw no sign of Vaala. Instead, there was a tray with a covered bowl and a thick loaf of bread next to her cot, with a small note which read, _It's better than orcish food. Trust me._

The bowl turned out to be filled with a sort of soup, thick with boiled vegetables and with a generous amount of meat. The taste was bland, but certainly not as bad as it could have been. After eating the late breakfast, Kael'thas took a moment to comb his hands through his hair and tie it back into a loose ponytail, grabbed his sword and went outside.

The sun was high up in the sky, which meant it was barely past noon. The Argent camp was surprisingly deserted, which was probably due to the fact that most of the paladins were out battling the Scourge. Some distance away, the chapel rose like a monument of defiance against the advancing waves of the undead, and also as a testament of hope that the future would bring better tidings eventually. Next to it, in the open space between the building and the first row of tents, Kael'thas saw a mass of purple and yellow which could have only been the drake they'd ridden here. He made for it, brushing off the curious glances his passing elicited with practiced nonchalance. Most of the paladins were humans, although he saw some dwarves and even a few kal'dorei, but none of them seemed to bear any grudge towards a lone blood elf walking in their midst.

Kael'thas found Vaala tending to the drake, as he'd expected. She looked far more cheerful than she'd been on the previous night, and when he greeted her she beamed at him with an expression that could only mean something had gone extremely well.

"They said the corruption hasn't spread too far and that, with any luck, there won't be so much as a scar left eventually," Vaala said cheerfully when he questioned the reason for her sudden change in disposition.

Kael'thas smiled at her with genuine relief. "That is good news indeed. And how are you?"

"Bored," Vaala answered with a small shrug. "I was going to see if the Argents have anything for me to do, but then the drake got all feisty on me and I had to take it out to feed. Luckily, we ran into some wolves not too far from here. It ate three of them before I even knew what was going on."

_'...what was going on.'_

Kael'thas blinked at the unexpected echo. There was a cliff behind them, true, but Vaala was facing away from it and there was nothing that could have bounced the sound back. Had he imagined it? "You should be careful out there," he said after a few moments, pushing the thought aside. "Between the Scourge and the wildlife, there are plenty of things that could catch you off-guard."

_'Scourge... things... catch...'_

This time, Kael'thas turned around, but he saw no-one there. Still, there was no mistaking the fact that he _did_ hear the voice, small and hesitant as it were, and for a moment he wondered if he had truly gone mad at last. Then, with a start, he realized that the drake was watching him intently, its head tilted to one side, one enormous eye blinking lazily every now and then.

"What's wrong?" Vaala asked after a few moments, finally realizing that something was amiss.

Kael'thas brought a finger to his lips and listened intently. Sure enough, not a moment later, he heard, '_What's wrong?' _He grabbed Vaala's arm and pulled her aside. "Did you not hear that?" he whispered very, very faintly.

Vaala arched an eyebrow. "Hear what?"

_'Hear what?'_ said the voice.

Kael'thas waved her into silence, thinking furiously. From what little he knew, nether drakes were fierce and independent creatures, hard to tame and harder still to keep. Occasionally they showed signs of intelligence, such as reacting to an immediate threat before the rider had the chance to issue a command. But then, the dragons native to Azeroth had been known to be able to do much more than just that. In fact, unbeknown to all but the most prestigious members of the Kirin Tor, one of them – a red dragon who went by the name of Krasus, or Korialstrasz – had walked among them for decades and even acted as a member of the Six. "I believe," he said cautiously, "that your drake is trying to learn how to communicate."

Vaala glared at him in a way that spoke volumes of the way she felt about that. "You mean that _thing_ can talk?"

_'You mean that thing can talk?'_

"Yes," Kael'thas said to both of them. The revelation brought with it a sudden wave of elation. This was unheard of, even on Draenor. He turned to the drake once more. "Hello?" he tried.

_'Hello?'_ he heard back. Then, a moment later, _'What's wrong?'_

"Fascinating," Kael'thas murmured. "It _remembers!_"

"I'm going to check on my brother," Vaala said loudly. "Have fun with whatever you're on to and let me know how it went."

Kael'thas acknowledged her words with a distracted nod. "What is your name?" he asked after Vaala had gone.

_'Name. What... is... name?'_

"My name is Kael'thas." He pointed at himself to demonstrate the concept and marveled at how quickly the drake had been able to go from merely repeating words to forming a vaguely coherent sentence. Or maybe it had been listening to others talk and was only now realizing that it can do it, too. "And yours?"

_'My name.' _Another pause, longer this time. Then, the drake rose on its hind legs and flapped its wings several times, letting out an ear-splitting roar.

"I see," Kael'thas said placidly when the ringing in his ears had subsided enough for him to hear his own voice once again. He didn't know if that was truly the creature's 'name' or simply a display of frustration over not having one to begin with. "That was... enlightening. Now try using words this time."

The drake lowered its head and made another sound, almost like a whimper. _'Wrong,'_ it said, somehow managing to convey dejection despite the fact that the voice hadn't changed. _'My name... is... not. What?'_

"You don't _have_ a name, do you," Kael'thas realized, piecing the meaning together from the few disjointed words and the way the drake hung its head after. "Would you like one?"

The drake hesitated at this. _'Like. Yes... My like. What?'_

"Tempest," Kael'thas said without thinking. It was rather fitting, all things considered. Simple, easy to remember, and with just the right amount of pompousness that dragons seemed to fancy.

The drake seemed to like it, too. It repeated it several times, trying out different ways of 'saying' it, then curled up and, for lack of a better word, purred its approval, a deep rumble that almost made it look like a giant cat waiting to be petted by its master. _'Your Tempest,' _it concluded finally, settling for an inflection it appeared to like better than the others.

"Oh no," Kael'thas said quickly. "You belong to Vaala, not me."

_'Vaala?'_ the drake repeated with a puzzled glance. _'What is Vaala?'_

Kael'thas pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Given Tempest's fairly limited vocabulary, explaining this would most definitely take a while. Then again, he had nothing to do at the moment, and following Vaala around would probably earn him a sharp lecture on how he was to learn to carry his own weight rather than depend on her telling him what to do. "All right... let us begin with something easy. When you were brought back from Silvermoon City..."

**4.**

Reevan was being cared for in one of the large tents that were closest to Light's Hope Chapel. When Vaala entered, she found one of the paladins that had welcomed them upon their arrival, a woman going by the name of Elizabeth Reed, and another human wearing bright purple clothes and a matching hat who hadn't been there before.

"He came round this morning, after you left," Elizabeth said without preamble before Vaala could ask if there had been any change. "He was delirious, I think... He demanded to see Kael'thas Sunstrider and didn't believe me when I told him that the prince was dead. Then he said that we should thank the orcs, or something along those lines, and _then_ he asked Rohan if he was willing to trade his hat."

The man in bright purple clothes looked up at this. "Said he'd give me a hundred gold pieces for it," he added with a casual shrug. "And then I said, a deal's a deal, here's the hat, give me the gold, but he passed out again. D'you think he'll remember?"

"_Clearly_ delirious," Vaala said forcefully, rolling her eyes to hide the pride in them. One hundred gold pieces for a hat? Reevan was even more clever than she'd given him credit for. "Either way, if he wakes again, I want to know it, before he decides to trade either me or Cerian for a coat." Belatedly, she realized she'd blurted out the first name that had come to mind. She made a mental note to herself to tell Kael'thas later that he'd be known as Cerian Dawnstrike for the foreseeable future and hoped he hadn't already introduced himself by another name.

Elizabeth put a gentle hand on her arm. "You should know that he may not wake again for a while," she said softly. "He needs time-"

"_How much _time?"

"A week at least until we can be absolutely certain that the worst has passed... and two weeks more if he is to recover his strength enough to travel again. You may all remain here in the meantime, of course. We never turn from those in need."

Vaala had been expecting something like this, but the news still made her sag a little where she stood despite Elizabeth's reassurance. If Ilastar hadn't given up on the pursuit, he would have more than enough time to comb the Plaguelands and find them before they could be on the move again. The Argent Dawn were notorious for their apathy towards any conflicts that didn't involve the Scourge, but even they would have to comply with a demand coming from such a high-ranking official of Silvermoon...

...although they probably wouldn't be so eager to turn over those of their own ranks if it came to it, which fit perfectly with what Vaala had in mind. She took her leave, giving Rohan one last glance to emphasize _exactly_ how much she disapproved of her brother striking any bargains with the human, then spent some time wandering around the camp with no apparent purpose while her mind worked on detailing her latest plan. From what little she knew about the former Order of the Silver Hand, most of it had been decimated with the fall of Lordaeron. The Argent Dawn, on the other hand, was not only enduring but thriving on the Scourge's very doorstep. The surviving paladins had likely realized that strength was indeed to be found in numbers and decided to employ people of all races and all trades under their banner.

Earning the appreciation of the Argents would be a fairly easy task. Vaala was confident that she could dispatch a few dozen Scourge to prove herself to them, whereas Kael'thas... well, he did carry a sword around, didn't he? The first order of business, then, would be to see what he could do with it, since casually tossing spells around would be too far a cry from his supposed mercenary self.

Drawing Kael'thas away from the netherdrake turned out to be unexpectedly problematic at first, since he was so caught up in exploring what he insisted to refer to as its 'intelligence' to want to do anything else. It took some time before Vaala finally managed to convince him of the necessity to prove his skills and he let himself be led to a cleared area that was both close to the camp and away from prying eyes.

"Show me what you can do," Vaala asked once she was done explaining her plan to him and he didn't object to any of it.

Kael'thas nodded once and began a complicated series of swings and thrusts. To his credit, even though exercise was fairly difficult, he executed it with the speed and grace of one who had become so accustomed to it that it almost came naturally.

However, Vaala had seen plenty of skilled swordsmen who were so confident in their routine they lost sight of the fact that battle was far too chaotic to allow for any such displays. "Stop," she called out. "Pretty as this is, it doesn't tell me anything of your true skills."

"How am I meant to prove myself to you, then?" Kael'thas asked, pausing awkwardly mid-swing.

Vaala drew her swords and took a step forward, rising both weapons slightly. For a moment she remembered the first time she'd sparred with her old master and how afraid she'd felt at the thought that he could kill her so easily, by accident if nothing else. Kael'thas appeared far more confident in his abilities than Vaala had been on that day, but he was still obviously in two minds about doing what she wanted him to do. "Come at me," she said softly. Then, on a whim, she added, "And don't worry, I won't judge you _too _harshly."

The taunt had its intended effect. Kael'thas gave her a look of offended pride, then charged without warning. His swing was elegant, but powerful. Still, just as Vaala had predicted, as soon as their swords clashed he focused entirely on trying to overpower her and didn't stand a chance as she drew back, crouched and swept his legs from under him in one fluid motion. A moment later he was blinking at her from the ground, likely wondering what in the hell had happened there.

"Lesson one – fight dirty." Speaking, Vaala offered him a hand to get up. "If you see even the slightest opening, use it. Otherwise-" Whatever else she was going to say was cut off by a gasp when Kael'thas yanked her arm forward, causing her to lose her balance and collide with him. A moment later she felt his sword pressed against the back of her neck.

"Lesson two," Kael'thas said casually, although there was the faintest hint of sarcasm in his voice. "You should never underestimate your opponent, whoever they may be."

With one arm still held in an iron grip and the other pressed too tightly against her body to do be of any use, Vaala quickly found that she was more or less unable to do anything against him. "Lesson learned," she answered in the same tone. "Now let go."

They parted, then clashed again. Vaala was content to let him attack for a while. It soon became obvious that Kael'thas was sparring by the book, if such a thing could be said. While his strikes were quick and precise, they were also thoroughly predictable. He could probably hold his own against lesser undead which didn't have much of a brain to think with, but all in all, swordsmanship was clearly not his forte... and neither was endurance, because it didn't take long before his breathing became heavy and his movements lost some of their grace. Still, he didn't stop until Vaala finally took pity on him and announced that they were done for the day.

"Have I passed your test?" Kael'thas asked immediately, quirking a brow as if to challenge her to say that he hasn't.

"That wasn't bad," Vaala said after a moment. "If anything, I'd say you're off to a good start. You'll have to learn how to think on your feet, and I can't teach you that without risking to hurt you."

Kael'thas gave her a strange look. "Do you truly think so little of me?" he asked bitterly.

"No, why would you-"

"Then I am willing to take that risk."

Vaala erred between the answer he expected her to give and the answer she wanted to give, while a small voice at the back of her mind marveled at the way he appeared to... _trust_ her. "Tonight," she said, with more reluctance than she felt. "Oh... and I would rest in the meantime if I were you. I _definitely_ won't go easy on you next time."


	8. Doubt and strife

_**Author's Note:**_

_Sorry, sorry, sorry for the long wait! I've been busy with other things (long, boring list goes here) and also with re-writing the first Shadow of Shadowmoon 'fic because it was so terribad it made me cringe (especially the first seven chapters or so). Three months, lots of rephrasing and roughly 13,000 added words later, I can finally say I'm happy with it and I can go back to this one. _

_...Oh, also, my blog (link in my profile) has a story page for SoS and links to a few extras. I plan to add more to it every now and then, depending on how much time I have. And finally, for future story updates and information on any delays (which hopefully won't happen again), you can follow me on Twitter (username: odeena). Just thought I'd let you guys know. On with the story!_

**CHAPTER 8**

**1.**

Sometimes, Seradane wondered why he even bothered. He'd spent six days with his newfound troll companions, but he'd scarcely learned anything about them so far. Both were of the Darkspear tribe, a thing that they took great pride in. One of them, Zawi, was a skilled hunter who wielded a pair of wicked throwing axes with handles carved out of bone. The other, Xin'iy, had been a shaman-in-training before following her long-time friend across the world in search of an ever-elusive life of adventure and heroic deeds.

Their trades weren't by far where their differences stopped, however, if their near-ceaseless bickering was any indication. Zawi and Xin'yi argued about anything and everything, which lead Seradane to believe that the brawl that had gotten them kicked off the Darkening had been with each other rather than with someone else aboard the ship. Unfortunately, most of their conversations, when they didn't concern him, were carried out in an obscure dialect of their language that Seradane wasn't at all familiar with. Still, on the second day, he had been able to divine that one of the major disagreements was over where they would go from here.

The small party had been wandering the Plaguelands with no definite goal in mind so far, though Seradane could vaguely tell that they were headed south and east. South was good, because that brought them closer to the traveled roads that eventually converged on the Undercity. East, on the other hand, meant that they were going deeper and deeper into Scourge territory, and Seradane wasn't sure he liked that particular notion. Thus far, the only dangers they'd encountered had been a few wandering beasts - too weakened by the plague to be of any real threat - and a scout of the Scarlet Crusade who'd fled at their approach, only to be brought down by one of Zawi's throwing axes. As far as Seradane knew or cared, the Scarlets were just as bad as the undead, if not worse.

The seventh day was coming to a close with no resolution as to which direction they would take when the sun rose again in the morning. Seradane left the trolls to light a crude campfire and wandered off to scout around. Not for the first time, the thought to continue on his own and let fate take him where it may crossed his mind, but he dismissed it just as he'd done before. All things considered, his odds of surviving on his own out here were hardly encouraging, and he had no idea if the trolls would take offense and hunt him down for his transgression. Zawi in particular seemed like the type to do just that.

Still, Seradane spent more time scouting than was strictly necessary. It didn't take long before he heard the voices of his companions drift through the trees, as though they didn't give a damn about who or what could hear them out here. After a while, the voices died down just as abruptly as they'd started, and then the silence became so thick it made Seradane's ears ring unpleasantly. He had a nagging feeling that nothing was alive to make noise for miles around them, and whatever had killed everything else off wasn't finished just yet.

It was that thought that finally made Seradane creep back to the camp, careful to step on enough twigs to announce his presence to the trolls. To his surprise, when he emerged into the small clearing they'd settled for, he only found Xin'yi there. "Where's Zawi?" he asked as he sat down by the fire and stretched his hands to warm them.

Xin'yi shrugged. "He be gone, mon." To Seradane's silent question, she added, "Not comin' back, either."

'Well, that's just _fantastic_,' Seradane thought wryly, although he was careful not to let the thought show. He knew better than to ask why Zawi had left, of course, but if strength was to be found in numbers, then their strength had just decreased by a third.

Some minutes passed with the creaking of wood in the fire being the only sound between them. Then, Xin'yi shifted her weight awkwardly. "Do your people have any great heroes?" she asked.

Seradane blinked at the unexpected question. "Heroes?" he repeated blankly. A quick look at her told him that the answer was, for some reason, _important_, and so he forced himself to think. Anasterian Sunstrider had died on the battlefield - some may have called it a 'heroic' death, but his sacrifice had accomplished nothing to stave off the undead. His son, Kael'thas, had lead off his people to die on some Sun-forsaken world, and later on he'd returned to attempt nothing short of the destruction of all life on Azeroth. And finally, the current Council of Silvermoon were hardly worth mentioning. Which left... "None at all."

"De Darkspear have Sen'jin," Xin'yi said with evident pride. "He be da greatest of us dat ever lived."

Seradane wasn't sure who this 'Sen'jin' was supposed to have been, and much less what he'd done to be 'da greatest of us dat ever lived'. Nevertheless, he nodded gravely and said, "I see."

"Zawi... he don't see things de way I do anymore." Xin'yi sighed, "When we left da tribe, he said, we gonna come back greater heroes dan even Sen'jin. Den he saw what da world was really like and wanted no more of dat. He be goin' back home now. So much for dat, eh?"

This was the most Seradane had ever heard Xin'yi talk, but he certainly didn't like where this conversation was going. "What do you plan to do from here on out?" he asked, even though he had the feeling he would regret the question before long.

"I be thinkin', mon... be there any place for me to be all dat I can be? And den I realized, there be no place betta' den here and now. De Scourge be da strongest here, right?"

Seradane quirked an eyebrow. "You... want to fight the Scourge?" he asked flatly. When Xin'yi nodded, he pressed, "Alone?" Inwardly, he thought, 'She won't last the week.'

Xin'yi gave him a curious look. "I have joo with me, don't I?"

Well, this was unexpected. "Of course you do, but..." Seradane searched his mind frantically for something to add after that 'but'. He could be many things, but a hero was something he'd long since written off as too impractical to even consider. After all, 'heroes' were always the ones to charge head-first into battle so they could die appropriately and be remembered as such, and Seradane certainly wasn't eager to die. Still, he could see that Xin'yi wouldn't be that easily deterred, especially now that Zawi had been cut loose.

Then, another thought came. "If you want to fight the Scourge, you might as well head east and join with the Argent Dawn. I hear they have a place for everyone." Whether or not the last part was true he didn't know, but the rumors certainly painted the Argents as largely tolerant of race and faction so long as it meant they gained another sword arm.

"De Argent Dawn..." Xin'yi said pensively. "Where can I find dem?"

"Oh, they're all over the place," Seradane said quickly. "In fact, if you... if _we _keep going east, we're bound to run into one of their patrols sooner or later." 'And hope they won't mistake us for brigands and try kill us on sight,' his mind added stubbornly.

Xin'yi crossed her arms, radiating satisfaction. "Dat's where we go, den. Get some rest, mon. We leave at first light."

'Lucky us,' Seradane thought with a grimace. Still, he had to admit to himself that one course of action was as good as the next right now. If things went wrong, he could always leave Xin'yi behind as Scourge bait and take his chances on his own. And, if they somehow made it to the other side of the Plaguelands unharmed... the Argent Dawn it was, then.

**2.**

"Are you going to come at me, or do you need a formal invitation?"

Vaala tilted her head to one side and flashed Kael'thas her most charming smile. "It wouldn't be much of a _surprise _attack if I called it out, would it?" she answered levelly.

Kael'thas shrugged with apparent nonchalance, but he couldn't quite hide his own smile. "On your own time, then."

Vaala waited until his posture relaxed slightly, then chose that particular moment to charge and strike. He parried her first attack with the kind of grace that was almost second nature to him, then stepped back to dodge another before countering with one of his own. They were sparring again, as they'd done every day since their arrival, without fail. Vaala welcomed the exercise as a physical and mental distraction from their less-than-fortunate situation, and somehow she knew that Kael'thas felt just about the same. The former prince was already beginning to show signs of improving, but his skills with the sword were still a cut below where Vaala wanted them to be. Still, she had to commend him for his dedication, if nothing else. He could already keep up with most of her attacks, although he was reluctant to strike back more often than not for fear that he could hurt her. That was a laughable notion as far as Vaala was concerned, but it seemed that no matter how hard she tried, she had little hope of ever driving that particular point home.

If Kael'thas wasn't the most aggressive swordsman, then his skills in defending himself almost made up for his half-hearted attacks. Holding his own with one sword against Vaala's twin blades was no mean feat, and to top it off he'd learned how to do it in far less time than she'd anticipated. Still, most of their sparring matches ended in the same way-

"I yield," Kael'thas said quietly. Behind him, his sword clattered to the ground, knocked out of his hand by one of Vaala's disarming tricks.

Vaala took a step back and sighed. His lack of reaction was beginning to annoy her. "Aren't you getting tired of me kicking your hide six ways to Winter's Veil?" When he opted to retrieve his sword rather than answer to her, she rolled her eyes. "Sun, don't you ever get angry?"

"I asked that you did not hold back against me, and so, it stands to reason that you would best me until such a time that I-"

"That time won't come if _you _keep holding back against _me_," Vaala cut in loudly.

"But I am not-"

"You are."

For the first time, Kael'thas looked slightly taken aback. "What am I to do, then?" he asked meekly.

"Fight me like you would any other opponent. If you see an opening, use it to your advantage. Fight dirty. Haven't you learned anything?"

Vaala knew that she was being unfair, but her words had their intended effect. Kael'thas drew up to his full height and scowled. "You'll find I am nothing if not a fast learner."

That was more like it. "Prove it, then."

"Very well."

Kael'thas held his sword aloft. An orange glow began to form along the edge, then spread until it covered the richly-forged surface evenly. A moment later, the glow turned to flame.

"Fancy," Vaala commented lightly, although secretly she was impressed. Fire was definitely useful, especially against the dried husks that most of the Scourge forces consisted of. She wasted no time in duplicating the spell, only the flames that adorned her own swords were fel-green rather than orange.

"Here I come!"

Vaala stepped back swiftly and sighed again. Kael'thas wasn't Kael'thas if he didn't broadcast his intentions before he attacked. She could only hope that he wouldn't be so daft in a _real _fight. Although, she corrected herself after they traded the first few blows, this fight was certainly beginning to feel real enough. True to his word, Kael'thas had indeed learned a great deal even in the brief time they'd spent together. She let him attack for a while, dodging or blocking his strikes and retaliating only when she had no other way of defending herself. The heat radiating from his enchanted sword, Felo'melorn, was quick to become a nuisance, but Kael'thas didn't seem bothered by it or by Vaala's own spell in the least. When she probed his magical defenses, Vaala sensed a sturdy ward around him. She didn't have the skills to break though it, and so she conjured a ward of her own - much weaker than his, she noted with a grimace, but useful still.

"It would appear we have an audience," Kael'thas noted when they parted briefly to catch their breath.

Vaala glanced over her shoulder and saw that several Argent Dawn conscripts had dropped whatever they'd been doing to watch their sparring. One of them in particular caught her eye - a dark-haired magister leaning heavily on a richly-carved staff. Her heart leaped at this and she turned her head forcefully, pretending she hadn't seen him. If Reevan was well enough to walk on his own, then soon it would be time to-

Her train of thought changed abruptly when she saw a blur of silver and orange coming at her with commendable speed. She raised her swords hurriedly, deflecting a swing so powerful that it nearly sent her staggering back. Distracted by Reevan's presence, she'd nearly let her guard down, and Kael'thas had taken advantage of that fact. Yes, there was definitely hope for him yet. "Well done!" she called out. "Still... you might want to be a little faster next time." She danced around the tip of his sword and came up behind him, resting hers just far enough from his back that the flames wouldn't singe his armor before she finished smugly, "Like so."

Kael'thas sighed and turned to face her. "I am bested... again." There was the smallest hint of frustration in his voice, but she knew it was directed at himself rather than her.

"You were much better this time," Vaala said reassuringly. "This is how I want you to fight from here on out."

To her surprise, Kael'thas shook his head firmly and said, "I will fight better than this."

Vaala found herself laughing before she even knew it. After a moment, Kael'thas joined in, albeit a little awkwardly. It was the first time that Vaala was hearing him laugh and, all things considered, it wasn't an unpleasant sound at all. "I'll hold you up to that, you know," she said at length. "In the meantime, though, don't burn yourself out. You'll have plenty of time to impress me once we take to the field."

"And when would that be?"

Vaala didn't answer right away. She turned and saw that the on-lookers had scattered. There was no sign of Reevan anywhere, and she guessed he'd gone back to his tent to rest. However, one of the men who had watched them earlier was heading towards them with long, deliberate strides. "It looks like soon," she muttered finally. "I talk, you listen. Watch and learn."

The man saluted without ever breaking his stride, then, when he reached them, said, "Well fought!" He had the booming voice of someone used to shouting orders, which meant he had to be an officer of sorts. "Captain Grayson Griffin, at your service. That was some of the best sparring I've ever seen!"

Vaala dipped her head in a gracious acknowledgement, but her voice was cold when she spoke. "We aren't paid to be mediocre, Captain, but thank you all the same."

Next to her, Kael'thas had to grudgingly admire her wit. With that one phrase, Vaala had proclaimed their trade, hinted that their skills wouldn't come cheap, and made it obvious that the price would be well worth it. And, sure enough, the next words Griffin said were, "How would you like to make some coin in the service of the Argent Dawn?"

"Oh, we wouldn't _dream _of insulting your hospitality by demanding an ill-fitted price," Vaala said quickly. "Say... ten gold pieces between us? I'm sure you'll find that reasonable."

From the look of surprise on Griffin's face, it was obvious he'd been expecting a much steeper price. "That's... fair," he agreed. "I'll have your tasks set out by tonight. In the meantime, go see the quartermaster for your tabards. Tell him Old Griff sent you. Old... Hah!"

"It took him long enough," Vaala said smartly after Griffin finally lumbered away, chuckling and muttering to himself.

**3.**

"That is quite an... interesting look," Reevan commented dryly when Vaala entered his tent some minutes later.

Vaala pinched the fabric of her newly-acquired Argent Dawn tabard between two fingers and raised it a little to eye it critically. "Still has something's blood on it," she said after a moment, although her tone made it unclear whether or not she was annoyed with the discovery.

Reevan smiled a little. "That should not worry you of all people, should it?"

For a moment, Vaala forgot all about the blood, the tabard, everything. Reevan was _smiling!_ This day was turning out to be much better than she'd expected. "You're right," she said sweetly, "especially when I have so many other things to worry about. Speaking of which, I saw you at the training grounds earlier. Should you really be up and about so soon? The paladins told me it would take at least another week before-"

"Oh, what do they know?" Still smiling, Reevan stood up from the cot he'd been resting on and took a few steps with hardly any apparent effort to prove his words. "I assure you, I am all right," he went on after he sat back down. "Now, aside from my well-being, what else troubles you?"

Vaala took a moment to answer, knowing how little she'd enjoy the next part of the conversation. "_Everything else_ troubles me," she said finally. "We haven't been discovered, but that doesn't mean we should let our guard down just yet. From what you told me, that Grand Magister of yours doesn't seem like the type to give up so easily."

Reevan lowered his voice, even though the odds of anyone listening in were fairly slim. "Ilastar never knew who he was truly after," he said quietly. "He may have found where the magical disturbance originated from, but I doubt he was ever able to discern its purpose. Beyond that, the only certainty he had was that I was somehow able to elude his guards and escape while he was gone, and even he knows that he cannot divert enough forces to comb the Plaguelands without drawing suspicion from the Council of Silvermoon."

"What about his own agents?" Vaala pressed stubbornly. "For all we know, he could have spies even here. What if-"

"_If _he does indeed have a spy here, then he will know of our presence, yes." Reevan paused for a moment, thinking. "Ilastar would not risk becoming at odds with the Argent Dawn... not when the rest of Azeroth not only accepts but condones the work they do." He rubbed his forehead and sighed, "Still... much as I would like to believe that we are safe here... there may be other dangers that we cannot afford to overlook. The Argents seldom think twice before allowing just about anyone in their midst. Though it saddens me to say it, we cannot trust anyone here."

"I thought as much," Vaala said wearily. "All right, if not a spy, then what about an assassin? _Captain _Dustweaver, perhaps?" She said the title with just enough emphasis to make it obvious just what she thought of the title.

Reevan's expression darkened at the mention of Seradane's name. "I doubt he would resort to that," he answered. "He would want to dispose of us personally, if he could."

Vaala grinned wickedly. "I'd like to see him try."

"How fares his highness, by the way?"

Vaala blinked at the unexpected change of subject. "Oh... him?" She pursed her lips. "His swordsmanship needs work, and lots of it. Other than that... he's... fine."

Reevan arched an eyebrow. "'Fine'? I trust you haven't been-"

"I'm being _nice_," Vaala snapped, perhaps a bit more sharply than she'd intended. "Isn't that what you _wanted _me to do?"

"Well... yes."

Vaala could guess the unspoken question that would have followed if Reevan didn't know better by now, 'Does it really bother you that much?' The answer to that would have probably been, 'I don't know,' likely followed by, 'Shut up.'

An awkward silence descended. After a minute or two, Vaala cleared her throat. "We're to receive our first assignment for the Argent Dawn by dusk. They'll probably send us on patrol, but I don't expect any trouble."

Reevan nodded at this, then said, "Take care out there. The Scourge can be a formidable foe."

"Always, dear brother," Vaala said with a nod of her own. "Always."

**4.**

When she wasn't sparring or dueling, Vaala spent most of her time going around the Argent camp, talking to paladins and mercenaries alike and volunteering what information she could share freely in exchange for the knowledge they possessed. Kael'thas, on the other hand, had been instructed to keep away from others unless it was absolutely necessary to do otherwise. And so, he'd taken to spending most of his day with the netherdrake he'd named Tempest, teaching her new words and concepts every day and marveling at how quickly she learned. Tempest was able to 'speak' in simple sentences now, although occasionally she mistook one word for another, oftentimes with awkward results.

Presently, Kael'thas nibbled on a piece of dried fruit while Tempest dozed off in her pen. The training earlier had left him even more tired than usual. Normally, he had little trouble employing magic whenever it was needed, but the act of both sparring and maintaining the one spell he'd cast had proven to be more troublesome than it should have been. Grudgingly, he wondered if Vaala would be so quick to best him if he were allowed to make full use of his magic. Such a fight would definitely be... interesting. After all, she possessed some magic of her own, and demonic magic at that. It stood to reason considering just who she'd been working for back on Draenor, and still... it unsettled him. Anything demons had to offer always came with strings attached - hell, he was the first and foremost to attest to that - and Illidan Stormrage had been more demon than night elf at the time of his demise. _If _he was truly dead at all.

A single word hobbled at the edge of his awareness, too faint for Kael'thas to discern. He frowned and turned to Tempest, "What was that?"

'_Bored._'

"Ah." Kael'thas could hardly fault her for it. From what little he knew about netherdrakes, he could discern that they weren't exactly fit to be grounded for days on end. "Perhaps... once I am done with my meal, I could take you out flying somewhere?" he offered.

Tempest's mind radiated satisfaction. '_Yes. I like._' She turned her head skyward. '_Hurry?_' she asked. '_Night soon._'

Kael'thas mirrored the motion and saw that the sun was indeed starting to dip towards the tree tops to the west, casting its orange glow on the mountain range that shielded Light's Hope Chapel on the other side. "Indeed," he agreed. "Just let me-"

'_Vaala comes!_' Tempest chirped suddenly, beaming excitement and not a little impatience. Vaala was the one who usually took her out flying, either to feed or to simply stretch her wings.

Kael'thas stood up quickly. How she'd managed to approach them so quietly was a mystery, but then, she was a hardened spy and probably had many other tricks up her sleeve. He almost bowed before he remembered how she disliked such 'pointless' courtesies. Instead, he settled for, "Welcome back."

In place of a greeting, Vaala waved a handful of parchments around. "Our orders came," she announced loudly. "Tomorrow morning, we're joining up with a party to patrol the area between-" she glanced at one of the parchments "-Corin's Crossing and Browman Mill."

Kael'thas frowned. "I'm not familiar with either name."

"Me neither," Vaala answered with a shrug. "That's why we're flying out to scout tonight."

If netherdrakes could giggle, then the sound that Tempest made could only be described as such.

"They gave me a map, too," Vaala went on, producing another parchment from the stack. "The mill is somewhere to the north, not too far off if I'm reading this right. Corin's Crossing is somewhere towards the west, on the road to-" she squinted at the unfamiliar language "-Darrowshire. Our orders are to scout, not to engage, but judging from what I heard there might be some fighting anyway. I want to know what we're up against."

It was a sound judgment, but something about it still bothered Kael'thas. It wasn't until they were aloft that he finally realized what it was. "How big a party are we speaking of?" he asked.

"Including us? Five... six, maybe," Vaala answered after a moment.

"Is it prudent to be wandering around in such small numbers, though?" Kael'thas pressed.

Vaala turned in the saddle to flash him a grin. "Of course not," she said, "Mercenaries like us... like _me_, are usually thought to be expendable. After all, if we get trampled by a pack of undead, who'd miss us?"

Kael'thas was horrified. "Do the Argents truly think like that?"

"Maybe... or maybe not. Either way, I figure we'd best even the odds a little. If you see anything move down there, feel free to pick it off. Just be sure to - oh, there's... the..." Vaala trailed off, staring at something down below. "That can't be good," she muttered. "Look!"

Kael'thas turned to look down as well and saw what had once been Browman's Mill, nestled in a clearing and facing against the dead forests beyond. At least a dozen Scourge wandered about, and more probably lurked in the ruined buildings scattered around. Some of then wielded rusted weapons - swords, maces, crossbows even. All in all, there had to be more than enough undead there to overrun a party of five or six, by sheer numbers if nothing else. Thankfully, none of them looked up to notice the netherdrake and its two riders.

"They said they'd cleared out this place not two days ago," Vaala said quietly.

"I doubt they lied," Kael'thas whispered back. "The undead must have returned in the meantime, and in greater numbers than before. I can try to-"

"No," Vaala said quickly. "You might kill a few, but rest will just scatter and come back after we're gone."

"Then... we must take them out at once."

"How do you-" Vaala began, but Kael'thas wasn't listening to her anymore as he scanned the mill and its surroundings. The ground was bare of anything but for a few scarce patches of withered grass. The buildings were old and crumbling, their wood likely damp and rotting underneath. A fire, once ignited, would take a long time to spread, if it did so at all - which meant that, rather than using several cleverly-placed fireballs, he would have to resort to one of the more powerful spells in his arsenal: a flamestrike. "Take us higher," he whispered to Tempest. The netherdrake obeyed.

Kael'thas steadied his breathing as he began to form the spell. This wasn't about subtlety or finesse. It was all about power - raw power that would consume everything in its path once unleashed. He chose a spot not far from a small shack that had probably housed the miller and his family and concentrated on it, guiding the arcane energies of the spell to gather into the small area until they would become unstable enough to ignite. Three seconds... two...

The flamestrike erupted with such force that Kael'thas had to shield his eyes from the searing light. Next to him, Vaala cursed loudly and prodded Tempest to fly even higher. When the inferno died down a little, the mill and everything around it had been reduced to cinders and ash. Of the undead, there was no sign.

"Good grief, you could have at least warned me you were going to do that!"

Kael'thas let the outburst slide. He observed the devastation his flamestrike had wrought with bittersweet satisfaction. This was the one thing that he was truly good at. And this, he thought wryly, was also the one thing that he could no longer afford to do.

"What's wrong?"

It took Kael'thas a moment to realize that he'd been asked a question. "What makes you think there is anything-"

"Because I yelled at you and you didn't say 'I'm sorry'," Vaala said flatly, and she did have a point.

Kael'thas shook his head and tried to smile, although judging from her expression, it wasn't at all convincing. "That spell was a little more taxing than I expected," he lied. "I should be fine in a minute or two."

For a moment he expected her to question him further, but then she turned away from him and gripped the reins tighter. "You'd better be," she called over her shoulder. "We have plenty of ground left to cover and it's going to be dark soon."

**5.**

The scouting party set off soon after dawn, under the joint leadership of the captain who'd recruited Vaala and Kael'thas, Greyson Griffin, and an orc mercenary who'd introduced himself as Guzgan the Fierce of the Warsong clan. From the moment she saw him, Vaala didn't like Guzgan at all. He was loud, brash and arrogant, and he reminded her too much of Yazdak the Rippler, Dokra's ill-mannered suitor. To her, Guzgan looked like nothing but trouble.

Aside from these two, the party also counted another human - a self-proclaimed former member of SI:7 named Gregor - and a dwarf from Ironforge, Alberik Steelbender. They set off north, towards Browman's Mill. Soon after, Alberik began to hum a cheerful tune under his breath. Aside from that, nobody spoke at all.

Vaala observed Kael'thas out of the corner of her eye. She'd taken up the rear with Guzgan, much to her chagrin, but the orc was thankfully quiet, for now. This gave her enough space to think... even though her thoughts kept coming back to her companion. She'd heard Kael'thas toss and turn for most of the night, and he was already gone when she'd awakened in the morning. Something obviously bothered him, though he didn't seem in any hurry to talk about it and this was hardly the time or place for her to pry.

The first hour or so dragged by in uneventful silence. Their arrival at the ruins of Browman's Mill, however, was quick to change that.

"Someone must've set fire to the place and ran off," Griffin concluded after a brief inspection of what little remained.

Guzgan snorted loudly. "I coulda' told you that much."

Vaala and Kael'thas carefully avoided looking at each other.

Once the party began marching towards the south-west, Guzgan began a long and elaborate account of his 'heroic' deeds. Alberik, who had been humming up until now, began to sing the dwarven words under his breath. This earned him glares from both Griffin and Gregor, but neither deigned to say anything.

Kael'thas, on the other hand, took notice of it for entirely different reasons. "Is that a song from your homeland?" he asked, taking a few quick strides to catch up with the dwarf.

Behind them, Vaala frowned. So much for not intruding on other people's business.

Alberik paused in his singing long enough to sigh deeply. "Aye," he answered, "'tis an old song from Ironforge. Me little Brenna used ta sing it all the time before... well, that ain't for ye ta be interested in."

"That isn't true at all," Kael'thas argued. "Truthfully, I've never met anyone from Ironforge before, and I would very much like to hear your story.

Alberik gave Kael'thas a curious glance. "Ye talk funny," he said under his breath. "Are ye one of those runaway sons o' nobility or somethin'?"

Vaala rolled her eyes, then immediately smiled placidly at some nonsense Guzgan said. The dwarf was a sharp one, she'd give him that. She'd tried to tell Kael'thas that his manner of speaking was a dead giveaway more than once... for all the good that hadn't done.

"If you wish to hear my story, then tell me yours."

'Well played,' Vaala thought proudly.

Alberik laughed. "Ye first then, mister..."

"Cerian. Cerian Dawnstrike."

"Dawnstrike, eh?" The dwarf looked from Kael'thas to Vaala with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Ye two look nothin' alike."

"That is because I married into the Dawnstrike family," Kael'thas said levelly.

Vaala bit her lower lip to keep herself from laughing out loud. Kael'thas was as bad a liar as ever. Who could _ever _believe such an obvious-

"She's pretty," Alberik said with a wink.

_-what?_

"What?" Kael'thas asked before he realized who the dwarf was referring to. "Oh, I believe you misunder-"

"Shove it, all of you," Griffin said suddenly.

Guzgan opened his mouth to protest the order, but a sharp glare from Griffin silenced him. A twig snapped loudly somewhere nearby.

"We ain't alone anymore," Griffin whispered, unsheathing his sword.

A twig snapped loudly somewhere nearby. A second later, something large, dark and bloodied came charging out of a nearby crevice and lumbered towards the party. It was either a bear or some other kind of animal, but its condition made it impossible to tell. Guzgan rushed forward with a savage cry and met the beast head-on before, his massive axe biting deep into its skull. Then, with an agility uncanny for someone that size, the orc leaped out of the way an instant before he was trampled. Unable to stop its momentum, the plagued creature tumbled head over paws. Griffin and Alberik were upon it to finish it off before it ever had a chance to recover.

Kael'thas had watched the whole scene unfold with one hand on the hilt of his sword, but unable to bring himself to draw it. He allowed himself a wistful sigh when the beast went down, wondering if he could ever become as skilled as the rest of his party without resorting to any kind of magic. The answer, he told himself wryly, was clearly-

"We need to talk. Now."

Kael'thas blinked at the hand gripping his arm a little more forcefully than he liked, but he allowed himself to be lead away from where the others were inspecting the slain creature without protest.

Once they were out of earshot, Vaala spun him around to face her. "Next time you feel like implying something about 'us', run it by me first," she whispered heatedly.

"I apologize if I have offended you, but if memory serves, you were the one to suggest that I use the name Dawnstrike," Kael'thas answered icily.

Vaala's lips twitched and she looked away for a moment, but when she looked back, her glare had murder in it. "You didn't object to it," she pointed out flatly.

"And _you _didn't think it through," Kael'thas replied with awkward hostility. "What did you think people would believe? We are clearly not-"

"Anyway," Vaala cut in forcefully, "we didn't agree on a story yet, so be careful what else you let slip." With that, she turned and walked away to rejoin the others, leaving Kael'thas to sulk and seethe on his own.

**6.**

"Well, here we are. We might as well make camp for the night, don't you agree?"

Seradane didn't wait for Xin'yi to agree or even acknowledge the suggestion. Instead, he dropped to the ground and began rummaging in the pouch he was carrying for something to eat. They'd been walking for the whole day and the rest had been little and far between - the troll had an uncanny endurance and she didn't seem to care that Seradane was pretty damn near exhausted by the afternoon - and if she wanted to go on past Thondroril River and into the Eastern Plaguelands beyond, then she was free to do so on her own. He cursed under his breath when his search didn't produce anything even remotely edible. He'd have to hunt something tonight, before he collapsed from either hunger, tiredness, or both.

"Joo say 'here were are', but where is 'here'?" Xin'yi asked from somewhere behind and to his right.

Seradane couldn't see her, but he could guess that she had her hands on her hips and was scowling at him. "Thondroril River, on the border between the Western and Eastern Plaguelands," he answered without turning. "There should be a bridge across the river somewhere to the south. We can look for it tomorrow."

Xin'yi moved to kneel opposite from him and took out an unidentifiable morsel from her own pouch, then took a bite. Seradane felt his stomach turn. Whatever that was, and however hungry he was, he wanted none of it. "How much farther until we find da Argent Dawn?" she asked.

Seradane groaned at the thought of another day of marching like the entire Burning Legion was on their heels. "Shouldn't take longer than a day or two, but we'd best save our strength," he answered quickly. "I don't expect us to make it all the way there without running into some trouble at least, and we aren't 'great heroes' just yet." '_And _I'll never be one, thank you very much,' he thought sullenly.

"And do joo really think they be wantin' to take us in?"

"More fo-more warriors ready to die for their cause? I'd be surprised if they didn't." Seradane had almost said 'more fools', but he had a distinct feeling Xin'yi wouldn't have taken kindly to that particular choice of words.

"Den we be da greatest heroes de Argent Dawn 'ave ever seen, mon," Xin'yi said proudly.

"Of course," Seradane agreed enthusiastically, thinking, 'Not.' He stood up and stretched his arms ostentatiously, hearing certain bones crack with very unpleasant sounds. Sun, he was tired. "I'm off to find something to eat," he said, and then he walked off before the conversation could go any further.

"Joo be back, yeah?" Xin'yi called out after him. "I have some more things I want to ask joo about de Argent Dawn tonight!"

Seradane rolled his eyes and sprinted away. Of course he'd be back eventually. After all... where _else _would he go?


End file.
